


Promised

by Rionarch



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: ASoIaF Kink Meme, F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-10
Updated: 2016-02-10
Packaged: 2018-03-17 07:28:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3520610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rionarch/pseuds/Rionarch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The War of Five Kings ends, mostly, in early Autumn. Stannis and Renly easily find something else to fight about.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> A comment fic that that too long and veered a little too off course. Plays with timeline gratuitously.

 

I. 

Stannis drummed his finger on the table of his private solar, only Davos and Jon there to see his agitation.

“No haggling? You’re going to let this go easily. I don’t believe that.” Stannis knew Snow’s command from the Wall; he’d gotten the Wildlings, his brothers, and his own men in order to fight the Others. He _promised_ a white cloak for his black one.

And yet he was there as Commander of the City guard, the Kingsguard position pandered off to Loras Tyrell at his brother’s request. The obvious demands Renly had made for his support against the Lannisters were negligible even if they put him in positions he wouldn’t have rathered to have.

“The Kingsguard is an honor, your grace. My life is to the protection of the realm not to you. It wouldn’t suite trading the one vow for a lesser one.” Snow stood loosely, like the world was weighing down on his shoulder- he supposed it didn’t anymore. It was better look on him, that he still stood tall without fear of death all around him. He nodded and finally turned to the papers in front of him.

“Should anything require an immediate need from the city speak to Davos. I want those walls fixed and manned before winter comes.” He watched Snow and his Hand share a look before nodding. “Good. You’re dismissed.” Snow left, accompanied by the near silent paws of his direwolf that was waiting in the corridor.

“Something amiss, Davos?” He waited until he was certain that Snow was a good distance away. He’d never assume the man would listen in and spy but to indulge in assumed attitudes would not bode well.

“Snow knows himself as he is. You’re looking at him like other lords would their men. He fought for you, with you, and in victory the lord shares it with his men. You promised him the kingsguard as a victory, even if it wasn’t meant for him.” Davos wasn’t unkind. Stannis knew that wasn’t a backhanded insult about how his own promised fell through but the state of it.

“The City Watch is little more than a joke now. They broke under the slightest fight and act as bullies towards the people.” Davos shook his head and pointed at the lines in the city that needed repair the most.

“And the Night’s Watch is bastards, rapists, and the last choice of dead men. Snow built them up. Allow him to do the same for City Watch.” It was a sound plan. It lacked the grandeur most men would accept, but it would be better for Jon Snow. Davos rubbed his head and looked out the window towards his ships.

“Better for the man, too. His vows won’t keep him alone. He might have a chance at a family now.” It was true. Jon Snow would be able to build a life of his own now away from the shadows of Winterfell and his lord father.

Stannis felt of half a mind to send him back to Dragonstone as a household guard.

II. 

Renly…wouldn’t say he was bored but Loras had taken to the Kingsgaurd better than anyone had really expected. As he often was now, gone and off doing peacetime quells of rebellion in the Reach and in the Riverlands. There were, to his luck, other things in gilded gold to look at than the Knight of Flowers.

“My brother does you wrong, Ser Snow. To have come so far from conquest at the Wall he sends you out to build another one.” Renly was quite a few inches taller than Stark’s bastard and the dour expression certainly didn’t help his look but the man had a presence of it. It might be partially from the White direwolf at his side, over seeing the construction of the King’s Gate.

“It’s only Commander Snow. The walls and gate should be completed by the end of the next month. Any sooner, I’m told, and the foundations wouldn’t set in correctly. It takes time and the autumn rain that’s sure to come doesn’t help any. After that completion I’m looking to have the regiments actually trained in weapons. I understand not many can be provided but it must be done.” Renly blinked staring eye to eye at Snow. Incredibly bright eyes, he thought, for someone with a dark cloud around them. It was perhaps the most he’d heard the young man say. It was ludacris but the chuckles got out before he could stop himself.

“I’m sorry, sorry!” He quickly gasped out watching Snow’s frown deeper. The wolf was starting to pay more attention to him than the work being done. “There’s no need to be so formal. I’m only here to introduce myself to the new Commander. I heard you ran a tight ship on the Wall…and I believe I can see that it’s still true.”

“Sir, you’re the Master of Laws. This is very much a formal meeting. The war might be over but everything is far from done.” Loras might have realized the come on in an instant but it appeared to be lost on Snow. The look of absolute determination made him want to ruffle his hair and steal a kiss just to see what Snow would do. Instead he just clamped him on the back and drank from his wineskin.

“Well Commander Jon Snow if there is anything that you need you should come to me first. Unlike my dear brother I actually know the lords and men around here and how to get them eager to help.” It wasn’t untrue. He was once again the little brother of the King but with Shireen his only child, he would be next in line. That finally gave way to a change in Snow’s features. He seemed sadder by it, if possible.

“Then would you be willing to do me a favor?” Favors. Favors he could do.

“I’d be remiss if I couldn’t.”

“…Arya Stark. We still have people looking for her. But if you could understand that she might not be as defenseless as a highborn lady would be.” Snow broke eye contact for the first time and looked away, scratching the direwolf behind the ears as a distraction.

“By that you would mean?”

“She has a sword. She knows how to fight.” The man actually winced now and spoke quieter, “and she might be more at home hiding with bandits than claiming safe haven at a Sept.” It looked like that admission was enough to tear down some more of Snow’s defenses.

“Well Commander Snow I’ll be looking into your weapons. And Jon? I’ll have some other look at the bandits near the Trident.” Well. That was a smile.

Renly thought he’d like to do Jon Snow some favors more often.

III. 

The girl in front of her was a wisp. The faintest smoke you could see before it gets blown away by the wind. And her left arm was burnt, but not the most distracting thing about her.  


“The balms you maester gives you will soothe those over well enough. I saw your arm reaching through the flames towards the fires. Sansa Stark, why did you run into the fire?” Still the girl said nothing. She knew the answer but it was Sansa who had to say them. R’hollr willed this one to live through fire and so she would guide the light.

Melisandre reached over and cupped Sansa’s face. “You did good work in burning the pretender queen.” She felt and heard the gasp come from the girl but did not let go.

“I told you I saw you in the flames and grasping at them. You lived, Cersei Baratheon didn’t. Say why.” Part of her understood that it was cruel to hold the shaking girl to the truth but she would have it admitted. Davos was never a believer and Jon Snow begrudgingly acknowledged R’hollr as the true power but Sansa could have the chance to understand _him_.

“H-he was here to kill me. When King Stannis broke through the gate she was going to kill me. I didn’t think she would follow me into the fires.” Sansa was tearing up and still shaking drawing in her breaths quicker and quicker.

“Our grace is Azor Ahai. Your heart wouldn’t have let you burn in his power. You’re safe, child. You mother will arrive before four days are over.” Sansa crumbled in her arms as she held the girl up, letting her soak in the warmth. She didn’t ask about the man in the fire. R’hollr would let all be known at his will.

IV. 

He wasn’t quite sure what his brother was doing, but he’d been more than delighted to see Jon at the small council meeting shortly after they’d finally met. Perhaps it was the less distractions from the outside but Jon was proving to be an even keener figure in close quarters. He was leaner, too, he noticed without the gold cloak around him even though he still dressed all in black. What him and his brother would be diatribing about could wait.

“Jon! Surprised to see you here. I never thought Stannis would break tradition and allow you in. I do have some good news for you, Commander Snow. Baelish, this involves you as well. “ He threw a friendly arm over Snow and beckoned Littlefinger over to them. The meeting wasn’t set to begin yet but it couldn’t hurt to sell the idea early. The two of them were easily the youngest members of the council.

“Commander Snow had requested arms for how he imagines the gold cloaks to be trained up.” Whatever Jon was going to say was interrupted by Stannis.

“You did? Why was this not brought to my attention?” Jon shook off from under his arm and stood before Stannis and Davos.

“Lord Renly is still Master of Laws and would need to know of any changes towards the City Guard. I’d only just mentioned it as a possibility once the walls were fixed.” Renly saw Jon stare down his brother and smiled at it. Stannis _hated_ insubordinate behavior. How the two of them managed a war together was extraordinary.

“There are still too many things more pressing than rearming the guard, I’m afraid. We wouldn’t be able to do it for quite some time.” Baelish had a twisted little smile on his face. Loras had never liked him, nor had Robert. Lord Lannister was still being held arms up at Casterly Rock after fighting on all sides and bitterly being drained of his wealth. There’s not much to be said, yet, of the prisoners in the cells below.

“I’m sure some of the funds could be allocated? Especially since we’re looking to downsize the standing number to begin with.” Stannis turned to Davos and gestured to the roster of Gold Cloaks that Tyrion Lannister bolstered before his capture. “Most of these men don’t belong outside of a jail cell.” Stannis could deal with figures but not _people_. He agreed to his brother’s kingship because it would never last. He would never have his people’s heart.

“Luckily I told Jon I would take care of it. Gold for gold, the Lannisters outfitted their people well but most were laymen and farmers. We’ll have whatever weapons aren’t useless or claimed by the lord in the Reach.” The assembly of them were stunned silent. Varys took to another bit of fruit non-pulsed, chances are he already knew it.

“That is gracious of you Lord Renly.” If weapons were gracious, than what he had next would be worth a smile certainly.

“One caveat, though.” Baelish shook his head muttering that there always was.

“They want to make sure it’s going to a good purpose. You’ll have to be knighted for them to do so, but considering your plans for the gold cloaks that wouldn’t be strange.” He beamed at Snow, who looked too conflicted for him to grasp. Davos broke their attention.

“A fine idea. If I’m a Ser than you’re more than prepared for it, Jon.” King Stannis, his brother and king, glared at him, Jon, and Davos in turn.

“Indeed.” Varys coughed gently into a napkin and announced that it was time to proceed as Melisandre and Jon took their stand next to the table. There were no seats for them, yet, he supposed.

V. 

Stannis didn’t like his affairs conducted in front of the entire court and in his solar Jon looked around at the usual motley of his council. King Stannis would always include the small council in his kingdom, but the personal engagement in private. He could also see that Sansa was clearly uncomfortable.

“Lady Catelyn can’t expect to win this. Explain why you Starks are almost insistent on proving yourself traitors.” When the word that Lady Catelyn Stark would not enter the city, nor allow Robb to do so, _nor_ turn over Jaime Lannister, Stannis had them all awoken and dragged into the chambers, before the small council could find out. Poor Devan was shaking as he turned over that message.

“I am loyal to the crown, your Grace. I have no idea what my mother might be thinking.” Jon didn’t know what _Stannis_ was thinking with this. Davos stared at his sister some more. When Stannis said nothing more except to glower at her his Hand waved Devan over.

“Take her to the Maester for her arm, and then to the Sept. She’ll be kept there until we figure out what we’re to do.” Sansa stood and bowed, before asking if she could go to the Godswood instead. She’d never followed the old gods at Winterfell but seemed to have changed her mind here. Even so, she didn’t look at him as she was escorted out of the room.

“Then maybe you could explain this, Snow.”

“I have nothing to say.” It was wrong. He had plenty to say to Stannis, to the small council, and especially to Joffrey Baratheon but he’d learned to hold his words. Not that they would act as a shield from a knife anyway.

“Your fears are unfounded. Yours and Sansa’s both.” Melisandre toyed with one of the candles in the room, touching the flames and staring at it rather than them. He’d only spoken of them once, to Davos, softly and before Stannis’ coronation, so of course Melisandre would _know_.

“Then what is it.” Stannis slammed his fist on the table rattling the inkwells and vials. “You had enough words about the wrights and everything else. Are you truly that angry to have a gold cloak?” Jon felt his lip curl up to show fangs, like Ghost, and went right back at his King.

“You threaten Sansa just as easily as you want to kill Robb! You expect me to nod my head at whatever you want? I never let you near my black brothers why would I stand around and let you kill my own!” Jon slammed into the table towards Stannis close enough to county the sleep lines from his neck still there. He had to calm down. He could feel Ghost getting agitated even as he followed Sansa and Devan down to the Maester. Davos put a hand on his shoulder even as he shrugged it off.

“I offered you Winterfell! Half a dozen times you would have been legitimized and _you_ turned them down, for what? Do you regret so much now.” Jon was ashamed to admit it, but he did. He swore to stay out of the kingdom’s affairs and ignored his own brother’s battles. Now he was in King’s Landing the same vows forgotten. Robb was going to lose everything even after all he’d gained. He had to get out of there before he did something he would regret.

“You once chose your brother over your king. Is it regret that you feel?” Davos was stilled beside him- they all knew that was a point of contention for Stannis.

Good, Jon thought, that they might both feel horrible inside.

“You are dismissed Commander Snow.” He bowed and left the solar, intent on finding Sansa and speaking with her. He didn’t make it more than a few feet away when Melisandre went to join him, taking his arm as she often would. Davos and Stannis would have their own fill of talk with his Hand trying to temper down some of the more outrageous plans Stannis would make. At least one man would be able to get through to him.

“You’re trying his patience, Jon. A man can only suffer so much.” She was steering him away from Sansa, he felt, and closer towards the edges of the keep with walls tall enough to see the ups and downs of the city. Strangely it felt like Ghost was going further down than where the maester would be. It was still startling sight to see so much in such a little space. At the Wall and even close to Winterfell there was more space than people.

“Sansa has been the victim of people’s patience. Don’t think I haven’t heard about what was done to her at court. Arya is gone or dead, Bran is a cripple, and Rickon a babe. Robb is all that’s left. Everyone has suffered because Eddard Stark was right. No gods helped them.” She moved the hair from his face to behind his ear and turned it so he was looking at her.

“You still do not believe in R’hllor or our Azar Ahai. Brothers have not been good to you so for once let the light show itself.” She started petting him like she sometimes did with Ghost and they quietly watched the city get rebuilt.

VI. 

“Lady Sansa, this is past the heart tree-“ Devan was still following behind her, even as she tried to walk by him quickly and into the littlest hole she’d found after Blackwater Rush. Not many southron people walked through here and it was probably the only reason he hadn’t been found yet.

Bundled up underneath some shrubbery was Sandor Clegane, sitting upright for the first time in days that she could see, eating the stale bread she’d been able to sneak with her.

“You’re awake!” Devan stayed at the edge of where the Hound was hidden, but she crept closer, taking out the tonic she’d asked for. It was better than boiled wine, the maester said, though he warned her it wouldn’t be enough for the burns on her arm. It might do the trick for the slashes through Clegane’s thigh that she’d been tending to.

“Chirp a little louder, I don’t think the gold cloaks heard you from here.” He grunted at her but let her keep cleaning anyway.

“Jon is in charge of them now. If I asked he’d forget you were here entirely. Have you been awake long?” His pants couldn’t be sewn shut with them still on but as dirty as they were it wouldn’t make things worse. The fever he’d had the first few days was worrisome enough but that past.

“The day, maybe. Give me some wine.” Her first thought was to only give him water but even her lord father took wine after he’d been hurt.

After months of looming under an attack in King’s Landing, Renly Baratheon came from the south and Stannis from the north, through the dragonlands. Blackwater Rush and the city was on fire long enough for Sandor to run from it, abandoning his duty.

 _But he came back for me_. Cersei promised her death if Stannis won- so she ran. The fire was deadly, but the Queen would have been worse.

“It’s only a small bit. You’re still healing, but it should be strong enough.” He must have been deeply thirsty because the skin was near emptied in a few gulps, some of the wine dribbling down his chin and on to his clothes. She dabbed it away with the bandages she took off of him, ignoring Devan’s pacing behind her.

“I can bring you to some. Do you think you will be able to move?” The hound didn’t say a word, only moved his legs from the bushes and rolled onto his stomach. It was slow and sad watching him crawl to even ground before finally standing up braced against a tree.

“One cage to another, girl. Boy, get my sword.” His voice was still rough after disuse but she didn’t pay it any mind. They made their way back to the keep slowly and without looking at another. Devan made a high pitched sound glancing around to see if they would be in any trouble.

“You might like Winterfell better than King’s Landing. We don’t have as many knights and so much more space. Stranger wouldn’t have to be cooped up either. ” Whatever she had wanted to sell him on brought him short.

“Who the hell said anything about Winterfell.”

“Me. I said things about Winterfell. If you stay it’s the king’s justice. We can go to Winterfell, I swear it’s not empty words.” Sansa had never felt for forward in her life but she grabbed his sleeve and turned him to face her.

“Then it’s the King’s Justice. Ever meet Stannis? Look at the Onion Knight’s hand and see what he does to the people he likes.” Dread more powerful than anything she’d felt in weeks boiled in her stomach. Clegane didn’t _know_ about the Red God.

“Then leave. Leave now! Take Stranger and run!” Devan was holding her shoulders to calm her down but it wasn’t helping. It was like being with Cersei all over again and Clegane didn’t know. Devan finally spoke to the Hound.

“Ser, King Stannis follows R’hollr. You’ll be burnt alive.” If the expression on Sandor Clegane’s face changed, they didn’t know.

VII. 

Renly frowned when he looked at the returned summons, unanswered. He couldn’t fathom why he was the one asked to speak with the Starks, instead of Jon, or even instead of Seaworth. On one hand he didn’t think that family would be so offended by those of low birth but on the other they were being arrested as treasonous.

He had two of his soldier accompany him to the midpoint between the city and his small, private standing army. One his lords was there, Umber, he believed, Lady Catelyn, Edmure Tully, the Blackfish, …and his pregnant wife, Jeyne Westerling. No sign of Jaime Lannister or the other lords from the North and the Riverlands, but he could do without.

“ _The north remembers, whether it helps you or not,”_ was the only cryptic advice he’d gotten from Jon when he asked for how to deal with his family. He’s met lady Catelyn only just before he and Stannis had come to their terms; even then the Young Wolf wouldn’t kneel.

He wouldn’t have been a welcome rainbow knight, either but perhaps still someone they would sings songs about. Jon even less so, but he understood why Robert had always missed his friend Ned. It was nice to have someone dedicated without letting their own ego overshadow yours. Many of his rainbow knights wanted their names remembered before he even became a proper king. Jon was refreshing, if distant.

“Things would be better for all of us if you would come without a fight, my friends.” Jeyne looked like she was shaking down to her core. Margaery would have looked as if she were feint, not actually in danger of it. From the glares he understood why Jon wouldn’t want to see his family.

“We fought down the treason of Lannisters against the crown and get summoned as bandits. You call that friend, Baratheon?” Robb was definitely something to look at. His hair was a lot brighter, more Tully than Stark, truth be told, but still with a set of stubbornness to his brow. It wasn’t the endearing grunts of Jon or Loras’ bright charm; but it was something.

“I call you someone that didn’t honor his father’s wishes and ignored the will of your true king. Eddard Stark died keeping peace in his house and kingdom. You ignored that. It is only you that will have to be made an example of. Come easy and your family stays safe. Make us fight and your wife will be raising the only Stark in the Westerlands.” The men were glowering at him for that, but it was the truth.

“Where are Sansa and Arya?” Finally, Catelyn spoke.

“Arya ran when Lord Stark died. We are still trying to locate her. King Stannis has offered a handsome reward for her return unharmed to which she’ll be turned back to your family immediately. Lady Sansa waits for her mother inside the keep.” This was what he had become. He was making a mother shake. Everyone’s resolve was crumbling in front of him.

“Robb, no!” Edmure Tully called out only to be kept in line by Blackfish. Robb Stark dropped his sword to the ground and bowed to the knee.

“I surrender myself to you, Renly Baratheon.” He nodded and let the former King rise. He would have gone closer to acknowledge but his own direwolf was not bowing, giving him a steely stare that would surely mean his death. Ghost wasn’t as confrontational as this one.

VIII. 

If he thought the whispers in Winterfell were horrible then he didn’t really know what to expect in King’s Landing especially with how unorthodox King Stannis was being with his council and his small council. The standing Masters were on one end of the dais, a bit farther than their proper place near the Iron Throne. It was a somber and quiet event that even Shireen didn’t feel up to waving hello to him from next to her mother, Queen Selyse. On Stannis right side? It was the three of them: Davos Seaworth, Melisandre of Asshai, and himself.

If a bastard was bad enough, he was a bastard that presumed to be in the King’s personal council about to watch his natural brother get stripped of his freedom. Ghost nosed at his hip , watching Grey Wind just from as far.

The rest of the trails would be waiting for another week. Before Stannis were two men: his brother and Joffrey Baratheon. Whereas Robb had on his finery, sans crown, Joffrey was there filthy and in rags covered in piss stains from his time in the cells. A small measure of dignity left for House Stark.

“Joffrey Hill,” Davos began only to be interrupted by shouts of rage from the boy, “ You are found guilty of Usurpation, Kinslaying, and unlawful murder.” It was a barely there list. In fact the first list of crimes Varys had produced had been…verbose. Stannis decided to get the point through more simply for everyone to understand.

“Your execution will commence by the week’s end.” Joffrey was once again gaged by one of the guards, and forced to his knees. The rest of his family was not present, not would he see their trials. If he wanted to be King, he would have to face his trail as such. Cersei was dead. Little Mrycella’s body was found with half her teeth knocked out and a bloody face for trying to stop Joffrey’s rampage during Blackwater. Tommen was being held in custody, but not in the cells.

“Robb Stark,” Davos started again but with a much different reaction. There were hushed whispers in the crowd and Robb only sank to his one knee. Grey Wind, too, sat down. Davos swallowed and looked at him.

Jon’s through was dry as it had ever been, but nodded anyway. They’d talked about this the night before.

“You are being accused of Usurpation and Disobeying the King’s peace. How do you plead?” It was a risk.

There were other mutterings going on about the proceedings but only one set of eyes caught Jon’s from across the Great Hall. If looks could kill Lady Stark would have already seen him dead several times over. Finally, Robb spoke.

“Guilty.”


	2. Chapter Two

I.

After the hall had adjourned, the King had summoned his council and Robb for a private word on the matters of Winterfell and Robb’s punishment. She had looked over at Jeyne looking far too pale for a pregnant woman and her mother going between fussing over her and looking across the people in stone cold silence. She’d never felt so close and so far away from them at once.

The others were already being lead out when Lord Baelish came closer to them, smiling softly. Sansa noticed that he grabbed her mother’s hand with _some_ familiarity.

“My Lady. As good as it is to see you I wish it weren’t for more bad news. Everytime we meet we seem to be troubled by something or another.” Her… her mother was _falling_ for it. She watched her Lady mother smile softly and hold his hand like an old friend. Littlefinger _didn’t_ feel troubled by her father- she, she remembered that clearly enough.

A voice in the back of her head snapped a comment that never got it’s voice. Look, here, a grown woman that still believes in songs that won’t lead to getting hurt. It sounded like the Hound.

“You should have a stronger voice by now. I could barely hear it over the chatter.” The group twisted around and saw Melisandre there with Ghost- and she felt relieved.

“I’m sorry, my lady. I’m to introduce my mother to the courts while she is staying in King’s Landing. Was something the matter?” The red woman smiled (a lot like Littlefinger) and drew their arms together. Littlefinger was starting to lose his composure around the woman no one was quite sure what to make of. Her mother seemed disinclined to like her, either, if the way she stared at the linked arms meant anything.

“Then why not start with his Grace? He will need to speak with you before the meeting is over.” Littlefinger rolled his eyes while her mother scoffed.

“In your fires I presume?” Jeyne looked like she wanted to say something but changed her mind. She saw her good-sister worry at her lip and look between her mother and the Lord. There wasn’t enough time for her to truly get to know the woman Robb married but the interest was there. Sansa’s stomach dropped a little when she thought about Arya.

“R’hollr sends only his guidance if I am wise enough to understand it. Sansa, remember what I told you. Your fears won’t come to light. You need only to summon the strength to claim it. Her Grace needs me. Sansa will see you to the King.” It was colder with Melisandre gone but it was a reminder of what she was going to do.

“She’s right. Come. The three of us need to speak with King Stannis- don’t worry we’ll be let in. If nothing else, Jon would let us in to spite the King.” It was another thing she’d noticed about her half-brother, that how dedicated he was to somethings but just as quickly to make life more difficult for others. The maids had been talking about how he personally questioned and sparred against the City Watch to weed out the best.

“I would be more than happy to escort you.” Baelish was trying again to stay close to them. Sansa didn’t like that one bit. Not after Cersei and Payne. Ghost stayed near her and dropped to his haunches.

“The King needs the Starks, my Lord, and it is involved with his private council. Thank you, but I am accustomed with the way.” Hovering over to the side was Devan, the Hand’s son who was ordered to follow her as often as needed be. He was a quiet boy and seemed mesmerized by Melisandre but then again many were.

“Sansa!” Her mother sounded horrified but she didn’t know what the horror was in this place. It was all the smiles and words that anyone could say. She’d said them for months, even after they had her father killed. She was weak and could say them. It was everyone else that scared her. She knew she had to make them see that this was better.

“Mother, Jeyne, we need King Stannis to like us or everything is lost. His private council is his, just as Father’s was. Trust me, _please_.” She’d said please before, for lemon cakes, for a bard to sing, for _Joffrey_.

She didn’t believe in R’hllor, but they had something right about fire. It showed you things.

II.

In the storeroom by the kitchens, Jon shut the door after bidding the servants out and left his weight to be handled by the shelf of onions and leeks. Ghost was in the hall still waiting for Sansa, but he simply couldn’t be in there now.

“I asked you to leave.” When the door opened and Stannis came in that just brought another round of sighs. The man looked at content as he did.

“Really, Snow? I am your king you cannot ban me from my own stores.” If he was uncomfortable sharing the space, he didn’t show it by sitting on the wagon of carrots. He looked more at ease here than the throne, Jon thought.

“I didn’t think it would be this hard. It would be easier to climb the Frostfangs again than to watch Robb…” He trailed off knowing that the discussion was over. It had been over for many weeks but at every turn there was something else to fight about the Starks- what was the line between appeasement and punishment? Stannis hadn’t had the answers, either. Stannis laughed.

“So what’s good enough for you is too little for your brother? From what Selyse has told me, the Starks don’t know about Winterfell.” In so much that it had been offered to him. Jon frowned, wondering how much Selyse had been talking with Lady Catelyn about. The woman never quiet liked him, or Davos, really, _nor_ Stannis if the matter really came down to it.

“Winterfell is not mine. But everything done in the North is what I chose. Whomever is going to Regent at Winterfell will have to come to terms with Wildlings, and Robb will have to endure at the Wall- because of what I had done.” If Jon really wanted to list out all of the upheavals he’d caused in the North he might have found himself at the mercy of King’s Justice as well. Leaving the Wall had been difficult. The brothers had elected another leader while he was dead, and were stunned after he survived.

Sam, brilliant Sam, had been the only way to clear away the confusion. Jon’s watch was clearly over, a Black Brother no more.

Stannis scoffed and shook his head, “Supposing _that_ doesn’t tell you everything you need to understand?” He was not amused.

“I understand that you continue to ask more than many people would, king or not.” The phantom pains from his watch ending twinged every now and then, but he’d survive.

“Robb Stark was the false King of the North, and _you_ were the one that completely changed the map of it. Despite a war the north now has more people than it’s had in hundreds of years. Your mission at the Wall was completed. I once told Davos I couldn’t lose the love of something I never had. My people will never love me, call me kind. But they will survive, much like the Night Watch and your Wildlings survive. I need that more than Winterfell needs some brothers quarrelling over a seat.” Like most else there was something behind the King’s words.

“Funny you should say that. Robb and I never quarreled over Winterfell. Renly is the Baratheon in Storm’s End.” Jon wanted to leave, quietly, and set around to fixing things in the kingdom. Talking about his family was about as hard as it must have been for Stannis.

“Watch your tongue, Snow.” That vicious side of the king was always there.

“Renly is your heir, and about to marry the daughter of the man that tried to starve you out. Your kingdom is going to be inherited by them, and you talk me about brothers fighting.”

“There are plenty of cells to forget you in.” The room was dark enough that his blue eyes looked a dark black, a frowning face.

“My lord, if that were true I’d be on the Wall now.” They both straightened out from their slouches finally realizing the time. There was a kingdom to run. He turned to leave first when a hand fell on the back of his neck.

“Choose your men wisely. The City Watch is not your punishment.” Jon smiled at the king.

“Can’t lose something you never had.” He might have been imagining it but the hand on his neck went tighter, like Stannis had finally convinced himself to shake his head off.

“Quite.”

III.

Davos had something that most Hands would need years to acquire: a keen sense of where the Royal family was at most times. Stannis was not to be interrupted during his counsel with Commander Snow. If anything were to happen to the King during that meetings the Others would have walked again. Selyse was busy in the company of her Red Priestess, a companionship she couldn’t find with her husband. Shireen, more delighted than anything to have companions again, was quietly learning the castle with the Kingsgaurd.

He wasn’t worried about them, nor what young Renly might be getting up to. A little less so about the ship that Marya and his youngest were on, finally heading to King’s Landing and the tower of the hand. The three women in front of him he pitied.

“I know most of what come now. Petyr has told me enough, but if you would speak with me about my family?” Lady Catelyn Stark was a hell of a woman. He’d seen mother protect their children and few had the same ferocity as her. In the bleakest moments of Stannis’ cause he often wondered if Marya would be able to survive well with the children. If she’d done half as well as Lady Stark it would have been enough.

“Robb is to take the black on the wall. However there is still the matter of who will be the next Lord of Winterfell.” There was a sigh of relief from the woman. Her home would stay hers.

“Considering what Jon has proposed-“ _that_ got her fire going.

“No. I will not let that bastard anywhere near Winterfell again.” Sansa gripped the chair and Jeyne gasped. Jon had warned him about this particular hurdle. That didn’t make it any easier to stomach.

“My Lady, Commander Snow was offered Winterfell three times. He has refused any and all attempts and denied the request of King Stannis and Prince Renly to legitimize himself as a Stark. We agreed that you should serve as regent until either your second son comes of age or if Robb has a son. If it’s a daughter she’ll be a ward to Storm’s End.” Jeyne wiped the few tears away from her face and held her good-mother’s hand.

“It’s a boy. Stronger than my mother’s Moon Tea. Robb’s going to have a boy.” She held her good-mother’s hand. Moon Tea? He would have to look at that claim a bit later. Sansa Stark’s face was suspiciously blank.

 _Now_ , Davos thought, _comes the part no one will like_.

“In order for your fealty to be proved, we’re asking for you to wed again.” If Lady Stark’s face could get any paler it would have.

“To what end? Children that would neither inherit at Riverrun or Winterfell? If you’re asking this for fealty it won’t be a Northern Lord.” Davos frowned and saw the list presented to him by the registrars of lord deemed worthy of remarrying Catelyn Stark. They were landless knights and sons of lords that he could only decipher by the emblems scribed next to their name.

It was a cruel game he wished he had no part in but would do so for his grace’s sake.

“It would be pointless for my Lady mother to remarry. Fealty signed in a bed means nothing at all. Look at the Lannisters.” Lady Stark hissed for her daughter to remember her manners. Sansa shook her head and politely reached for the list of names. He passed it to her as she glanced over at it.

“These men would have never been marriage candidates for the daughter of a Lord Paramount, let alone the wife and grandmother to one,” she passed the paper back, telling him nothing he didn’t know himself. Onion Knights being Hands and hedge knights marrying Ladies was becoming far too much of a price.

“I will stay in King’s Landing as hostage, with two provisions.” Ah. The distant looks and resignation made sense. The young lady had already resolved herself to stay here even at the alarmed looks of her mother and good-sister.

“Sansa! We’ve only just gotten you back and Arya is gone. Please don’t do this.” Sansa reached to cup her mother’s face and wipe away the tears.

“Just trust me. I want to have control over my marital rights,” Davos nodded. Queen Selyse might not be pleased with that one but it was fairly harmless.

“And the price for my broken engagement to Joffrey is that I want one of his sworn shields for my own protection. He’ll be mine, my responsibility, and cleared of his charges under my service.” Davos looked the three of them over. For all accounts Lady Sansa looked to be sure of herself. She was polite as to be expected and had really asked for nothing. Queen Selyse had tried to keep Shireen away from the lady as did most of the court. He didn’t know if she knew it but the women that had been in Maegor’s Hold had taken to whispering _Queenslayer_ at her.

“I might regret this.” Lady Stark softly tried to convince her daughter of an otherwise option- how could a mother live with her child sacrificing for her sake? But he already knew she wouldn’t be moved.

“King Stannis might not like it. But I’ll feel safer with my sworn sword and my half-brother in King’s Landing. It won’t be forever.” The last part wasn’t meant for him. “I can bring him before the king whenever it would suit his needs.” Wait.

“Lady Sansa, am I to understand you are harboring someone you believe to be in danger of arrest?” Lady Stark looked almost aghast when Sansa laughed and lifted her skirts to her calves. Even her good-sister was red in the face.

“And where would I hide him? I asked Devan to guard him safely while I asked this of you.” Davos clenched his stubbed hand to keep calm.

IV.

Renly ran to the gate of the Red Keep accompanied by Littlefinger and Lord Tarley to see what the ruckus that was being cause, hoping it wasn’t another Lannister riot or the Starks being unduly difficult. He was a little behind on what he would like to accomplish. His rainbow cloaks couldn’t be implemented yet and Margaery was still heading from Highgarden for their wedding. He smiled when he saw what _was_ being dragged into the Keep.

“My lord! In honor of Robert Baratheon, first of his name and in Eddard Stark, Hand of the King, I give you Gregor Clegane and The Mountain’s Men!” Astride his horse, Beric Dondarrion slowed to a stop in front of them, some of his men carrying a chest between them. A young squire, it seemed, was in chains following them.

Inside the chest were a collection of swords, bloodied and rusted, of the Mountain’s Men. The center piece of this gift was Gregor Clegane’s head looking quite normal sized when separated from his body. That was the most devastating force Tywin Lannister had at his disposal and it was all nicely cleaned up now. Loras might even be able to come back sooner- and then maybe they could work on a more brutal assault of his City Watch Commander.

“You’re a little behind the time, Lord Beric. We’re appreciative none the less.” Renly smiled at the group and motioned for the pages and squires at hand to relieve them of their horses and effects. It wasn’t until he truly looked at the group did he notice a few _new_ pieces. “Quite the motley you’ve acquired here. The Riverland Marauders?” A few in the crowd he recognizes from the Tournament of the Hand, some seem to have been picked up along the way.

Thoros of Myr, for one, was looking around with a keen eye for someone. Most likely that Red Priestess his brother kept around him.

Dondarrion clapped his hand on his squire’s shoulder to push him forward. “This one saved me from early death at Mummer’s Ford. We lost a lot of our host and these fine men joined our Brotherhood without Banners.” Renly hadn’t felt so delighted in a while. What a _story_! From what he could remember his young squire was Edric Dayne of Starfell and the boy had that look to him.

“How wonderful this tale seems.” Littlefinger surveyed the crowd smiling, taking into account everything that was being moved around him. In one of the saddlebags he plucked a hair pin of deep purple to inspect it. Tarley, on the other hand, frowned and moved closer to the rabble of the group.

“What are you three hiding?” That was curious. A northern man – Hawley? Harwin? Crouched closer and drew his cloak back to obscure their sight some more. Beside him the fat boy shuddered and a mostly recognizable face was the third.

 _Stannis will not be happy about one of Robert’s bastards here_ , Renly through smile unmoving. Robert’s bastards meant less than Shireen did. From the looks of him this one was probably the one he and Arryn found in the smithy.

“Oh would you just move already. I won’t be safer with you louts in front of me.” Renly felt his eyebrows rise at the girl’s voice as she pushed through her stale worth defenders knocking her elbow into the bastard’s ribs with a keen efficiency.

She was in ragged clothes and her hair was a butchered mess, some to her ears, some grazing her chin, and some bits reaching neither with a thin sword at her side.

“My brother’s in there. I wanna go see him.” Both the bastard and Dayne roughly grabbed her shirt even as she tried wiggling away from them. The shoulder of her beaten clothes slide off to expose he collarbone and upper breast. Renly bit back a laugh at the blush on the boys’ faces. A few snorts from the crowd lasted until Dondarrion silenced them.

“I’ll admit we made one detour in bringing the Mountain to justice. May I present to you Arya Stark.” The courtyard around them stilled for a moment before going to their business. If he knew the castle well enough the rumors would be flying by evening. This would have been wasted on someone like Seaworth.

“My lady. I am personally relived to see you unharmed and with us.” Renly bowed low for her- and she seemed completely unfazed. Slightly angry in fact. Jon was right about the company she would have sought out.

 _This is the luckiest girl in Westeros_ , Renly surmised. She’d found her dead father’s men, a Baratheon bastard, and a young lord to escort her through the war. Tarley looked as if he was holding on to a tiny bit of disbelief.

“Your brother and lady mother are being held as guests-“ the lord from the Reach began when he got interrupted by the girl.

“Oh? They’re here too?” Renly laughed and offered his arm to the girl. The others might wonder if this was actually Arya Stark but she looked just like her brother. It might not be the _best_ compliment to pay a lady but knowing how close she was to Jon there would be none better.

“If you’ll excuse us, I believe that our lady wants to be with her brother, Commander Snow. Tarley, debrief them, see that their wounded are helped, and bring them to the hall for dinner. There is much to celebrate tonight.” He stopped them and turned around,

“Her friends, as well. I think there is more to her escape that her family would love to hear. Please, er…” her looked to her for their names.

“Hot Pie and Gendry.” She pointed to either with the tip of her sword. Renly nodded and began to escort her again to Commander Jon and his brother.

V.

“I despair for the Night’s Watch.” Joffrey Hill was being lead out by the guards looking far too smug than he had any right to be. Stannis glanced over at Jon who glared the prisoner out of the room.

“The worst is that they won’t even try to kill him. He’ll work to undue everything with the Free Folk.” He knew the man would not be pleased with Joffrey’s plea to join the Night’s Watch instead of execution. It had to burn.

“If he makes two steps unaccounted from the Wall you have my permission to execute him yourself.” Snow nodded and breathed through his nose deeply, anger barely inside. Davos and Snow had been taking turns helping to discuss what the punishments should have been. They’re already seen to most of the Lannisters. Only Tyrion and Lancel were left.

“It’ll take some time for Tyrion to arrive. “ Snow offered that and dimly he remembered that for a shortwhile they two were travel companions towards the Castle Black. Stannis pulled out a rag and soaked it in the basin of water to clean off his desk from the blood, he knife as well.

He couldn’t officially convict the Kingslayer with enough to warrant death, so he met halfway. Jaime Lannister was stripped of his cloak and made Lord of Casterly Rock. Tommen Hill would safely live with his uncle, never allowed to inherit.

What the Kingslayer didn’t anticipate was Stannis removing his thumbs from either hand.

“Your Grace-“ Whatever Snow had been planning to say was interrupted by the arrival of the Imp arriving with Meryn Trant. His Kingsguard stayed at the door while Tyrion took the only seat in the room with an angry red scar going across his face.

“Jon! Down from your bloody frozen wall?”

“My brothers decided my watch had ended.” Snow smiled at the Imp almost unfazed by tension that should have been between them.

“Charming. My sister decided I’d grown too high and short to shorten me by a head. Is it true she died in my wildfires?” Stannis gritted his teeth and sheathed his knife.

“Lady Sansa Stark pushed her in.” That threw the dwarf off for more than a moment before he grinned again.

“Sansa? Well then I suppose I should share half as much credit to her. But good for you. You were wasted on that Wall anyway.” Somehow the imp was the most tolerable of all of the Lannisters.

“Tyrion Lannister. Other than supporting a false king are there any other crimes we should know about?” The dwarf frowned.

“Undoubtedly a lot. Most I might not even know. Cersei hated me enough that she set the Kingsgaurd on me. They’re not a group to be trusted.” Stannis blinked at the candid way the news was presented. What some people seemed to forget is that he’d warned Robert time and time again about his bad council and the misbegotten people attached to him.

To find out that between his own policy making and the Lannisters that the Kingsgaurd was corrupt? Not the most startling news. The lack of united Lannister front was. A mummer’s farce in magic means one hand does not know what the other does. Tywin Lannister has three hands and sight on none.

“Then why were you named as Hand?” Snow was leaning against the desk peering down. Perhaps given their friendship it might be better to have them separated. Undoubtedly they have their own stories to share about Catelyn Stark.

“I wasn’t. My Lord Father was. He sent me to clean up the mess Joffrey, Cersei, and Littlefinger wrought.” Tyrion opened his mouth and closed it again. Stannis knew he was hiding something but it was uncertain of what. He stared at Snow as if trying to look through him. He could commiserate having spent hours trying to understand the man.

“Littlefinger had encouraged Joffrey’s temper…and his executions. Jon, I swear no one had planned to killed Eddard Stark on that sept. I feel like we’ve only just begun to feel the troubles from that.” He didn’t hear an apology and the commander echoed his thoughts.

“That almost sounds like an apology.” Snow looked sad as he said it.

“On our sleeves, Jon. Once I start apologizing I’ll never have to stop. Your Grace, there are a few things that might help you. There is a whore in the castle.”

“Excuse me!” He grit his teeth at the gall of the dwarf. “Maybe your sister should have aimed a little lower and cut through the neck.”

“There is a whore, Shae, that’s been keeping a few things safe. Letters from Varys, Pycelle. You know, that sort. They should be more helpful than anything I can tell you.” Ghost startled from where he laid on the floor. No matter how large the creature was Stannis would always forget when the silent shadow was in the room.

“Then we can’t forget about the Tyrells.” Whatever might have come next Stannis didn’t know. There was a bite in his side and her saw Trant’s sword more than felt it. He was on his knees when Snow caught him. Ghost’s muzzle dripped heavy with blood without making a single sound.

 


	3. Chapter Three

I.

Jon had been a part of silent conversations for his entire life. Bran, mostly, had a way of expressing what he was thinking without many words. For a long time Maester Luwin was worried that he would be a mute or slower since he started speaking so late. Watching Robb be quiet was so against everything he remembered.

“You’d think one of the King’s advisers would at least have a better view.” He didn’t look so sallow skinned anymore like during his trial but the bags under his eyes aged him more than a few years. Jeyne was a few weeks away from giving birth and that was taking even more of a toll on him. The past few days Jon had invited him to his chambers so Robb might have some peace and quiet.

“I’m here to sleep. It’s easier to protect the princess, too” It was a room in the royal tower that had been for the head of the house for the Kings. Stannis had it converted into his chambers with the dull expectation of protecting Shireen and his wife, as if the Kingsgaurd would have been capable. It would be exhausting letting him know he was correct.

“The view at the Wall is better.” Robb snorted and drank from the wineskin. Jon hesitated in drinking from his cup but sipped through the quiet. “Things are a bit different up North.”

“Of which I was King of, and you’re here to update me. Gods. That’s funny.” He stayed quiet for that taunt. He never wanted to fight with his brother for Winterfell, for anything accept just a bit of family. Stannis had the right idea of it.

“The Wildlings won’t kneel but they’ve settled in the gift. Alys Karstark married the Magnar of the Thenns. By now all they’re people should have made it to Karhold.” Robb slammed the goblet down and stared at him.

“Mother had intended to try and wed Bran to Alys, for a time. And even then she was engaged to Hornwood. Why would you marry her off to a wildling?” For all the things that shamed him, those that approached him for help wasn’t it. It was harder to swallow coming back after Lord Stark’s execution than to explain the tentative politics between being a free man and a sworn brother.

“She fled to Castle Black after her uncle and cousin’s tried to get her with a kid and take the castle. In their eyes all the legitimate heirs were killed. And then you killed her father.” Ghost was prowling along the halls looking after the King and watching Davos as he went about.

Jon respected that the man could see danger coming and would still try and keep collateral damage down. If another set of eyes on him were needed Stannis wouldn’t say a word.

“She wanted to defend herself and her home. Don’t think I brow beat her into marriage. She’s actually quite happy choosing her husband.” For the third time in as many days the brother went silent and didn’t speak.

“…what would father have done?” It wasn’t a fair question to ask Jon.

“He knelt. He fought for peace in the whole kingdom. I think he would have been happy you chose to live than die bravely.” Jon couldn’t fathom the choices that Robb had to make just as Robb would never understand his.

II.

“Might be Stannis should not make it through the moon’s course?” Mace Tyrell sat at the table with him and his host of people, including his fair bride to be, Margaery. The hall was empty of most other people since the attack on his brother. It had been several days since he had spoken to any of Stannis’ council properly. Days since he’d even seen Jon. It seemed at time that he’d been more for the Master of Laws than himself with how he was going through each of the kingsgaurd personally. Even his Loras had being called back.

“Father, we shouldn’t presume so much about our King.” If he had been able to care for a woman at all, he would have wished it were Margaery.

“Stannis is as stubborn as the stones that make up Storm’s End. He’ll be fine for the time, no need to worry yourself, my lady.” She gave him that secret sort of smile that made her look so much like her brother. If all went decently there would be enough children between the two of them to not call any worries over. He was aware of his lady’s…proclivities, as she was his. They would have a happier marriage than Stannis and Selyse, at any rate.

“There is some concern. The Imp had named your family a threat before Trant showed himself. I don’t want anything to smear your name even the slightest.” Loras and Margaery were his, the Queen of Thorns was decidedly not. Mace sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I’ll admit it. We had an audience with Littlefinger that would have betrothed Margaery to Joffrey. He was to come to an accident and Sansa would be given to Willas. My mother…she thought it best. Shows how much sense she has.” Renly frowned and gazed around the crowd, most of them not paying any attention.

His brother was often cruel but about the council. It would take time but eventually those he trusted would take their places. He’d have the kingdom and Loras as he would. Perhaps, too, he would have Snow and a few others around that he trusted. A few suggestions from Margaery to Queen Selyse, done right, would mean more than him trying to force anything through. The girl stood up and took him by the arm.

“Father, no more of this talk. Renly had promised to introduce me to the court, personally. Grandmother says that Lord Baelish was keen on a meeting.” Renly smiled at the little minx. She might be his, but she was more of the Queen of Thorns than her father was. Had Robert lived she would have been his goodsister, now his wife. There were few people in the seven kingdoms that would be a finer companion than Margaery.

“Yes, Baelish. Than perhaps you’ll want to meet the Red Priestess herself?” He waggled his eyebrows as she tutted and swept out of the hall. They waited a few paces before they knew that they were alone.

“Tell me the truth, Renly, how are things for my family. The imp could be a disaster- the Kingsguard worse. You won’t let Loras get hurt.” Her fingers dug into the fabric of his sleeve.

“Loras will be fine. Jon Snow has been, frankly, doing my job for me as Master of Law while I’m accompanying Davos in the kingdom. He’s prickly but I like him. I think Loras might, too.” She blew out a little “oh” at that. He had no real way of knowing but there were only so many indicators: he was warding another man’s child, chose not to marry, and spends most of his life in the fraternal life. There had been whispers about the Blackfish, too, for many of the same reasons.

Jon had mentioned a wilding woman, Val, who brought him a child and left again with a tilt to her smile. He’d have to get some good wine in him and get the full story about that one (amongst other things).

“What of the ladies at court?” She had to work her skills somewhere, and after the work of Cersei Margaery couldn’t quite so openly flirt with other knights and lords.

“Thin. Unproductive. Ugly. But you of course have met Selyse before. You shall have to look into court for yourself, my dear.” Margaery wrinkled her nose at a smell that was coming from the halls towards Littlefinger’s work. He chose to keep an office open to the banks and away from his home. It was also a good deal easier than having whore house mother’s break down into the Red Keep.

“Littlefinger! Don’t tell me you’ve decided to open a-“Renly pushed Margary aside after her opened the door. Peter Baelish was at his writing desk with a purple jeweled something in his hand, eye wide open and bloodshot. The prick of blood was dried on his finger. Dead as everything else about him.

“Maragery, find me a Maester, not Pycelle, Lord Seaworth, and Lord Snow. Let _no one_ else know.” She glanced in and balked, turning an unattractive shade of green.

III.

He’d seen some of the most beautiful ships of the Narrow Sea many times in his life. They weren’t always made for him to sail but the beauty of a well built gallery on the water could take his breath away.

Davos thought seeing Marya climb down from a fish monger’s boat with his youngest would make all of them less.

“Davos, my dear.” The years showed on her face, plump and a little too weather beaten with more grey than brown left. He hugged her close to him even as the children just pulled away and made gross noises.

“You made it safely.” She smelled of fish guts and sea but staying in King’s Landing probably didn’t have him much better. Still he felt her breathing in his neck with a sigh and tighter embrace.

“I missed you. The Mother knew better than to try and keep me away.” He understood where his place in the world was even if his King had a slightly higher estimation of it. Davos accepted the cleaving of his fingertips for the future, the danger his ships would be in, and even the safety of his sons. He’d never been able to figure out how he managed to be so lucky with Marya.

He was fine with puzzling it out to the end of his days.

“How is his Grace?” The clung to each other like children, easing through the harbor and to the castle.

“Injured and ordered on bed rest.” Marya tutted while dragging the mule behind her, loaded up with most of their earthly possessions.

“Poor man. He must be driving himself to madness like that. I remember when he tried to vacation.” Steffon wobbled around on his legs still unsteady from the boat ride. Stannis poked his brother in the side with a stick he’d been carrying around.

“Lord Hand! Lord Sewaorth!” They stopped their walk and Ser Parmen Crane ran towards them with a purple cloak flapping behind him. “Prince Renly needs to see you at once. There’s been-“ he glanced over at Marya and silenced himself. She unlocked their arms and patted him away.

“Go. Go help Stannis while I get us all settled in. I’ll be sure to see him soon.” Davos never dreamed that this would be a life he could live. He leaned into their kiss and hastened back to the castle, hoping that the news wasn’t going to be too terrible.

IV.

She’d been told that King Robert had all the dragon skulls destroyed, but a few whispers around admitted he could only stash them into the dungeons of the Red Keep. The smallest one that would do had been brought up to her chambers, a fire pit built around it.

There was still much to be done between R’hllor and the Great Other. They’d left the wall to secure the kingdom but it still lurked beyond. There was still no stirring in the stone dragons. Perhaps it was time to bring more drastic measures. Selyse would let her take what she needed. The woman had spent the nights in her bedchamber seeking comfort while Stannis was healing. Her devotion was unwavering.

“Excuse me, Lady Melisandre?” Ah. She thought this conversation would happen sooner or later given what Seaworth had told her. In her entrance chambers stood Sansa Stark and The Hound. Melisandre had lived with fire her entire life and hadn’t seen as much grisly damage done.

“Lady Stark. It is good to see you about in daylight.” The faithful knew the night was full of terrors- the Starks, she’d noticed, seem more at fit with those fears. It kept them human she supposed.

“It’s about Lord Baelish.” She nodded and stood from the skull hearth. The way the smoke moved out of the nostrils, as cracked and chipped from age as they were, looked like the breath of a living dragon.

“You’ve not spoken to your mother about it. Nor Lord Seaworth. It would never do for you to mistake silence and secret keeping as strength before our Lord of Light, but you do anyway.” Peter Baelish was an awful man. She could live with the slights against her from non-believers …but that man knew of Essos and the lots. He was cruel in a mask with many shadows clinging to his body.

She could not have acted in such a way without help. The poison from Asshai that her friend Thoros of Myr had kept was the spark of it all. Though she’d more success with the conversion of the Baratheons he was more beloved by the people of Robert. Parlor tricks brought more smiles than divine.

The fire roared, for a moment, and she saw _them_ as they were.

“Your union appears blessed. Take care, for the night is dark and full of terrors.” Sansa blushed and stuttered and her Hound snarled at her.

“The fuck are you implying.”

“A union forged in the fires of R’llor. You’ve been made stronger from it.” The younger woman clutched the Hound’s cloak. She had the peculiar look on her face that meant she was following what she said. There were deep glances at the Hound’s face.

“That damned battle didn’t do shit to me or to her except burn her.” Melisandre smiled and ran a finger down the sticky burnt remains of the man’s face. He flinched away.

“Fire’s burnt part of you out already. Now it heals.” She was scaring him.

“It doesn’t hurt, Sandor.” It was autumn but the northerners still wore clothes as if it were summer, the cuts of sleeves folding all the way up their elbows. Sansa’s burns were still healing and visibly shown.

“You say that until one of your brother’s men wants his wife to look nicer than he does.” Curious.

“My brother’s men are returning to the North.” The Hound spat on her floor- she’d have it cleaned up one way or another, before sneering down on Sansa. The girl looked at her and spoke lower, whispering something she didn’t hear.

“Like you.” The hound protested again looking shaken for the first time.

“Sandor, I’m staying as a hostage. I’m staying here with Jon, and with you.” The door opened and Thoros entered and broke whatever silent spell was going on in the room. He looked hungover and worse for wear as he bowed to her and Lady Stark. The Hound and him exchanged a gruff nod.

“Thinking of converting?” Sansa shook her head.

“No, but excuse me please. I must go speak with my brother and his wife.” Like a _puppy_ , Melisandre thought was best described, Sandor Clegane followed his mistress out of the door.

“No luck with the stone dragons yet?” Thoros was a warrior of R’hllor, not a priest, not really.

“No my friend. I see dark even in the fires. The Long Night will come again.” The room grew darker and the smell of coagulated blood grew steadily stronger. Thin rivets ran down her leg but she paid it no mind. There would be worse to come.

V.

As they walked back from the forge (where she introduced him to Gendy), Jon couldn’t help but notice Arya biting her lip and glancing at the toddler that he was holding in his arms.

“Jon. Did you have a bastard?” He saw his little sister frown at the toddler. Gilly had come with the Reach’s company and cried for an hour when she saw her son alive and well. What came as a bigger surprise to Jon was the infant at her breast beside the baby-to-be-named Aemon. Sam’s broken vows weren’t a concern of his and it would have been hypocritical to say anything. It was nice, though, to have people scared of him anymore.

The men whispered things about him during the time between his fall and his leaving: that it was unnatural. Even Val kept a farther distance away from him at first. It bothered him slightly that he didn’t feel cold anymore but that was more from moving to the South than anything else. It’s hard for anything to be cold here.

“Your mother is going to cry when she finds out what happened to your manners in the trident. No, this is little Aemon, a wildling child. I suppose Val was serious when she said I would be taking care of him.” They were out of the castle for the first time in a few days: _Selyse_ had finally ordered him and Davos away from the King’s bedchamber when he woke for a few brief minutes. Melisandre assured them that the worst was passed and they should return to their duties. It had been a welcome distance and that is why Jon agreed to it. He really didn’t care one way or another is Melisandre thought she could order him.

The baby was a little unremarkable, but that was like any child. Gilly warned him that he was starting to get into things and looked for trouble around every bend. He’d have to find a servant capable of child care soon enough. He couldn’t quiet be expected to tottle a babe around the city.

“You didn’t name him Eddard.”

“It’s not my name to give. Perhaps yours, or Sansa’s if Jeyne doesn’t claim it first.” He wouldn’t hold a child to his name nor disrespect his family that much.

“…of course.” Arya got quiet again and they strolled through the streets towards Flea Bottom. She’d wanted to see her friend again before the northern host went back to Winterfell and the Wall and asked him to accompany here there and back. A pair of his men, two from the Flea Bottom itself that made enough money gambling and fighting to buy themselves into a better life, nodded at him as they continued their rounds. Jon frowned and stilled his sister with one hand.

“What is troubling you, Little Sister?” He watched her clench her hands- very blistered and scabbed up from her time out running the war- clench and unclenched. She finally bit out that she’d lost Needle and couldn’t get it back. The thin sword she carried was a piss poor replacement. Jon adjusted Aemon’s grip to the ground as he kneeled eye level to her.

“You’re worth more than any sword. I could never be mad at you for surviving that. It’s only a needle, Arya, only a needle.” It shouldn’t have surprised Jon that he’d said the wrong thing to a girl.

“But what if Mom is. I left everyone at King’s Landing in trouble. I left my own pack behind! And Robb never looked for me. I’m angry at them and I’m scared that they won’t want me anymore. I did some horrible things.” Jon didn’t like seeing Arya so helpless and down.

“Sansa stayed. She survived without getting anyone else hurt.” Arya slide down the alley’s wall. Aemon would have to stay occupied for a few minutes longer.

“Listen to me. You are brave and you did you best at everything. What happened to you and Sansa is that everyone failed you. _I_ failed you, and so did Robb. You will not blame yourself for doing your best.” Jon wondered sometime during his fights at the wall and beyond, what would have happened if he broke his vows. He might have ended up dead sooner. Might have joined the Brotherhood without Banners- he might have saved his sisters more trouble than they ever needed to have.

“You’re going back to Winterfell. Lady Catelyn will need you and she _loves_ you.” She wiped away some of the tears from her eyes that hadn’t been cried out. With Arya she went either way. Sometimes, she confessed to him years ago, she wished she were a bastard too. Than there were times she wished she could have just a taste of Catelyn’s approval like Sansa had.

“Mom doesn’t know I left the castle. I was too afraid to ask her.” Jon sighed. They made their pace fast through the city, making sure to take the quickest roads to side of the castle, dipped below even some of the streets of the city.

“Where are we going?” Jon shushed her and Aemon as they slide past a stone door that moved. It would take them to the hall of the castle, just out from the servant’s quarters. It was where he looked for solitude when he was interrupted by Stannis and his japes.

“That is a curious question, Ser Snow.” Quiet as a _spider_ , Varys slid out from a door, maybe further down in the wine cellar. Arya had a knife out at him before Jon. He had to duck already to fit through some of the smaller passages.

“Lord Varys. I was taking this troublemaker back into the castle before she got found out.” Renly had warned him about certain members of the council over the course of several evenings dinner in his chambers. It struck Jon as particularly poignant when Stannis agreed.

“Which means you shoudn’t tell people.” He could see Arya glare at the man even as she put herself between the Master of Whispers and himself.

“I’m afraid you catch me benevolent. Little children playing outside do not often frequent council meetings,” the man smiled in a way that seemed kind and unassuming. “The deeper question is how you found these places? You’ve been here but a short while.”

Jon paused. He could tell the man the truth, or he could lie. A harmless truth or something that could be used to bury him- or Stannis- in the long run. He had sworn to help the king. That did not always mean with a sword at the ready. If he learned anything from the Night’s Watch it was that truth was bitter but a better shield than honor.

“Maester Aemon told me a few of the passages he and his siblings used to play in. This was one of the ones he said he remembered fondly.” Arya glanced at the child and then back to Jon, confused. From behind Varys’ entrance did a black cat appear and scamper back down.

“Aemon, well he would know, wouldn’t he? I think that you and I should talk. You make think I’m a gossip but ask of Tyrion. Enjoy your time, Lady Stark. Ser Snow. You might want to avoid these secrets, in light of recent news.” Varys bowed at them and slowly walked back down the stairs, completely unknown to where he was going. Jon frowned. There had been remarkably no news since Stannis’ attack.

What could the spider have been talking about.

VI.

He’d but three visitors in his condolence: Shireen, Marya, and Davos.

“I am not pleased.” Davos looked equally unimpressed at him. He was still not allowed to leave his bed under the orders of _everyone_. He once yelled at Robert for believing that a King need not take the advice of others- mostly his advice- and here he is now.

“I didn’t think you would be. We could hold off many things for a day or several, but there are only a few people that could actually be the master of the coin without it coming up a disaster. Tyrion Lannister was already in a cell when we arrived.”

He couldn’t care less that Littlefinger had gotten himself poisoned, nor was there any limit to the people who could have done so: any of Lord Arryn’s men, the Queenslayer, the various prostitutes from around the city. For someone as well liked as Peter Baelish he had the support of a cheese wheel only. Even the High Septon was looking for blood _somewhere_ after Ned Stark’s head has blessed their holy site in blood.

“The Imp stays. Have everything he does restricted. No liberties to be taken at the whorehouse’s either.” That would be punishment enough.

“As for Lady Stark’s…” The throbbing headache of his was back and as usual it started with a Northerner.

“Allow it. Snow won’t let anything happen.” The Hound was the standard sort of barrel scraps. He drank, he whored, he gambled. The punishment was due of course but he didn’t think of anything as shameful as going from a landed lord to a girl child’s pet. Davos cracked the stubbed fingers by stretching them against the bedpost.

“Lord Renly wants to have a tournament.” He understood much of Robert’s rage now. Even then he’d had a glimpse of how pig headed the council had been. Stannis wondered if the smartest thing Robert had done was to leave them to their own devices.

One week unconscious and Renly is a step closer to being a second Usurper, Snow’s distracted by his bastard family, and Marya was pregnant again. If he had to judge by the lack of glow on his Hand’s face the man didn’t know yet.

“No tournament. We’ve barely recovered as it is and to invite out enemies to our door? No.” His hand shifted around.

“Your Grace, Shireen has been excited for it. She’s asked for Lady Arya and Lord Edric Dayne to accompany her through the festivities.” It left a sour taste in his mouth. He must have been silent for too long when his Hand prompted him to speak again.

“I’ve become a placeholder, Davos. It was my duty to secure the realm and I have to the best of my ability. Selyse and I will more likely than not have any more children. As much of everything else it will go to my brother. Tell me. Would you celebrate this tournament? Be the King and give everyone exactly what they want?”

Davos Seaworth took his time to answer as honestly as Stannis knew him for.


	4. Chapter Four

I.

Renly watched his brother grit his teeth-the habit seemed to have gone away for a while but in the middle of most debates it came back with a force. If he didn’t stop soon he’s have dagger points like the dragon skulls instead of human teeth.

“When Davos mentioned a tournament, he neglected to mention that it would be for your early wedding or did you simply not tell him.” The Onion Knight was the Hand, but he was no man of real respect and stature. Most of the kingdom laughed at Stannis behind their sleeves for his assembly. His brother was making a mockery of himself but it served all purposes. He’d had the council that made peacetime possible; _he’d_ have the peace.

“There has yet to be any kind of acknowledgment for the war that we’ve won. While your men and the Northerners are content my people dealt with the Lannister forces in the South and acted as resistance for the Dornish scrimmages. It’s disrespectful towards them.” Stannis nodded along with the grim look on his face.

“Your point can be made without the lavishness. And thus far no war has been won as long as Tywin Lannister is a cleft in the kingdom and Greyjoy sends his ships along the coasts.” Renly sighed. Dealing with Stannis was aggravating: he had to be right, all the time, to the absolute.

“Does nothing make you happy, Stannis? Autumn has begun in earnest and …nothing. You smile at nothing still. Tell me brother, is this going to be your last winter?” As much as he wanted to stab the wounds Stannis carried over his life, real and imaginary, he couldn’t do it today. Renly didn’t want to pay attention to the pangs of sympathy he felt whenever he looked at his brother, nor did he want to think too deeply into what he should have done otherwise.

Fury, yes, but also unhappy was the lot of Baratheon brothers.

II.

The ashes scattered with a _crack_ , and her blood rose to the surface of her wrist, burning and yet blackening like a bruise. Shadows she didn’t make were in the room, scattering around and the echoes of screaming over ran the sounds of the city. There were more shadows cast in this castle than the dark pf the Wall.

The stump of fire that she burnt cracked as soon as the door opened and the largest shadow in the room flashed by, flickering as the flames did. Selyse, who had been sitting nearer to the lesser used bed, stirred but said nothing of the Dwarf. It appeared that he hadn’t seen her.

“Pardon my intrusion, but I had not yet made your introduction.” Melisandre frowned at the dwarf as he entered. He’d survived but only barely, because of his wealth and willingness to accept Stannis’ punishment- he didn’t ideal with deforming a Dwarf even more and agreed to a substantial tax from the mines of Casterly Rock, as well as a triple rise on goods from Lannisport.

Davos and Varys, in the first small council meeting without Stannis or Baelish, had agreed with Renly.

Melisandre would have liked to burn him.

“It is nothing of my doing, Lord Lannister.” He glanced around the room with the planes of his face distorted by his eye.

“I’m willing to take the bet that not much is, my lady.” He walked closer amused grin on his reddened face but curiously stopped and frowned. He looked about the room, eyes looking for something he wasn’t even sure he could find. The Dwarf might not believe in _her_ power but he’d had more sense than others to feel humbled by that of R’hllor.

“Please take your leave, Dwarf.” He nodded and waited outside of her doors in the safety of the hallway with the guards.

“Forgive me again, my lady, but I’m very well read- certainly more than our dear Onion Hand. He hates you on the propriety of people, and Varys seems to dislike you for things in Essosi history. Me? I just like the whores and my life. I would very much like to have years more of them in the future.” He shut the door and left.

She’d been at the firs so often these days looking for a sign. When Davos had urged them to the Wall, it was well. But they had left and it was wrong to her bones- and she had the feeling Snow knew that as well. The dragons would have to be awoken.

“How many ways can my husband be so foolish but at least this one will pay well. I won’t have a pauper kingdom like Robert and Cersei.” Selyse moved closer to her and kissed the joint of her neck.

It was time for them to return to Dragonstone.

III.

Renly didn’t want to understand why Jon was given quarters as the head of the house in the royal towers of the keep. Even some of the lesser chambers would be more than suitable, but he could probably ponder a little something about it. Like Loras, Jon didn't think he was supposed to shine any brighter than he should have. Renly knew that story, all too intimately.

Third sons and bastards might as well been the same thing in the eyes of some fathers. The misfortune to have hit the Starks (Lannister, if he was certain) jumbled everything up- a cast out first born, hostage daughter, crippled second son, and that left the two youngest. Someone had to show Jon that everything was in his grasp. He knew Margaery was going to get close to Sansa- the girl didn't seem like much to him but his wife was clever when it came to the women that would make her look best.

" _And they want the daughter for Willas,"_ he though with a laugh. Highgarden was already going to have one of their daughters as a princess and until the war, they’d never presumed to have one of the Starks at their table. Sansa was the perfect choice-epically if the way Edric Dayne kept chasing after little Arya’s tails meant anything. A marriage between the two Stark sister would possible quell some of the bad feelings between Dorne and the Reach. He knocked the dark door, and it swung open before he could repeat the motion.

"Gilly!" Renly was stunned at the sight. He'd always seen Jon reserved and covered. This was not what he saw today. His shirt was gone and he could see the red wounds being healed all over his chest- newer than the one on his face. As expect his skin was pale but well muscled and lean. It took effort but he looked up towards the man's face and saw it as a less attractive sight. He had dark rings around his eyes and it was only then that he took in the rest of the room.

There was a toddler wailing on it bed, hiccupping with the force of its tears and flapping to and fro from the ridges of the room was a raven, screaming about Snow, King, and Night, occasionally landing in front of the baby, pecking it, and flying off again.

"....Jon, perhaps there is something you need arrangements for?" A thousand and ten ideas flipped thorough Renly's mind while Jon scrambled to pick up the kid, and swat at the bird. A few of them would curl a septa’s hair.

"I swear I will throw you in Melisandre's fire! Roasted raven that sounds nice doesn't it?!" The bird squawked at Jon, and flew out of the open door screaming about Night til he could no longer be heard. The captain of the city guard turned to him and sighed, "I'm sorry, your grace, would you like a seat?" He couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it.

"I'm fine. I merely stopped by to invite you to dinner tonight with several promising guards and Kingsguard from the reach and Westerlands- the ones that defected from the Lannisters at least. But perhaps I should just get you drunk instead and have my way with you." Jon didn't seem to grasp the innuendo and let it slide.

"This is rude but I have to ask, who's child is that?" Jon let out a sigh and threw himself into the seat he offered. Blindly he grabbed a light tunic shirt that was shockingly not black or grey but a finer yellow.

"I'll be asked that forever, wont I? This is Mance Rayder's son with his wildling wife. He was my black brother and for a few months my king. Tormund decided that since I was there for his birth that only a crow could take him. It's a big joke for a lot of the tribes up there considering who we are." Jon rubbed down the back of the child with a small smile on his face that belied the exhaustion he must have been feeling.

"I love a good joke," for lack of anything else to say to make his stay longer. Jon shook his head,

"It's a story for another day. Actually its one of the most northern songs, but that's also why it's not really sung south." With the raven gone the toddler seemed to settle down some. He'd seen the mountain men that the imp had brought down and he couldn’t see much weird in the babe's face. It looked like any other toddler. He'd soon be ready to start moving around on its own.

"Now you challlenge me, Lord Snow! I know many of the songs and I've been to White Harbor more than a few times and I've never heard of a song like the story you're telling me." Jon blinked and laughed. A second voice from the door interrupted them.

"Lord Renly's right. I think I want to hear this song as well." If he would have guessed, he'd say that Robb Stark was looking as bad off as Snow right now. Grey Wolf was padding alongside him making the absence of Ghost conspicuous now. He ignored the lack of a title- after all, the losers could afford to be spiteful in the ways a victor should not.

"Robb, I'm not sure..." They were all seated now and Robb poured the wine for both of them, none for Jon.

"I'm heading to the wall, Jon, and I would like to know what your wildlings are saying about the Starks before I walk into there." The looks on their faces got tight- kinder than himself and his brothers, but that friction was always there. Even though Loras was better he still contended with his brotherly rivalry.

"...Bael the Bard was a wildling who wanted a southern wife. The lord of Winterfell let him in to play and he stole his daughter in the night to be his wife. She returned home with his babe. When the Starks and wildlings fought again beyond the wall, her son brought her his head. She died in mourning...." He didn’t sing it but recited the words in short measured tones. Undoubtedly there were lines that he'd glossed over seeing Robbs fist tighten over his drink.

"Ah. And I can't imagine either Robert or Eddard Stark wanting that particular verse heard. Intuitive with manners, wouldn't you say." He'd tried ribbing Robb with his elbow only to get a growl from his direwolf and a deeper frown.

"So the wildlings gave the bastard stark the son of their king only as a joke?" Jon hesitated again and decided to pour his own cup of a wine. When Renly imagined, and he _had_ , the careful way he’d have Jon Snow drunk and attentive this was not it. Luckily the feast would be a better banquet of people and drink.

"I'd stayed with the wildlings to find out their plans for the wall. Janos Slynt agreed that the only way to prove that I wasn’t a traitor was to fight and kill Mance Rayder. Turns out that's when Stannis also decided to attack. I was with Dalla, the boys' mother, when he was born. And as a black brother they decided I was kin enough to keep Mance. Val...she has decided other things and wanted him raised below the wall."

"Interesting. And you mentioned a Gilly before?" Robb frowned as if the name had sounded familiar. The laugh Jon gave out was more of a bark this time, even Grey Wind look startled.

"Gilly is the wildling girl Samwell Tarley broke his vows with. Two kids, boy and girl, and she's going to stay here as Aemon's wetnurse and caregiver. Now he'll at least be able to be raised how Dalla might have wanted." Renly dropped his jaw at the news, pounding his fists on the table-

"Tarley's boy did what!?" If he'd heard anything more shocking it would be almost inconceivable. He saw Robb take another deep drink from his wine and refill it only to glance outside at the sun. The man seemed almost twitchy in ways he hadn’t seen before of the young wolf.

"Is it hard?" Renly couldn’t understand what the Stark was asking his brother, but neither did Jon.

"What do you mean?"

"Having a kid on your own,” Robb sighed and pulled his hair through his hands, “Jeyne’s giving birth and mother threw me out.” Jon stared open mouthed before going to grab more wine. Renly simply passed his cup over. A well time feast, indeed.

IV.

Sansa had been to the birth of her siblings and several of the ladies in attendance at Winterfell, and watched the pregnancy of Lolys progress. Ayra, who was still young when Rickon was born, stared down the corridor in horror at Jeyne's screams.

“ _That_ is what having a baby is like? No thanks." The Hound guffed out a laugh at her to which she pouted at. They were getting along marginally better. Princess Shireen was also with them, sitting quietly with the scarred parts of her face covered by the hair she let stay down.

 

"You'll want children someday. You've not even had your courses yet." Ayra made another face.

"That's what moon tea is for." Shireen gasped but then crouched into herself again. She, on the other hand thumped her hand against her sisters head. She'd heard some of the stories of Arya confessing everything that she had done to mother and choose not to intrude on them. Her sister might be ashamed of how she acted but that wild part of her never changed. She would, once she passed her grief, be mostly able to move on with her life later.

"And where did you hear that!" Arya shrugged and winced at the drowning wails from the hall. Their mother had kicked Robb out when Jeyne's water broke. It was no place for a man to be.

"Well that’s what the whore' use." Shireen's eyes widened and blushed at Arya’s explanation and spoke up for the first time most likely top change the topic of conversation.

"Lady Sansa, do you think you'll be married soon? Mother says that you would have your child take a Stark name." She nodded and clasped hands with Shireen. It was about time that the girl came out of her shell around them. She’d been in this same unsure place for a long time- it would be awful to not help someone else suffering the same. The Hound stilled beside her but said nothing. It was the little princess, though, that looked at him and then back at her.

Since speaking with Melisandre she'd.... she'd come to realize something. They'd been married one way or another- her cloak had been removed and left her naked at court and she put his own around her. Then the red priestess acknowledged their ceremony. She was married to Sandor and no one else in court knew- except this little girl here who watched more than she spoke. She spoke of the idea to Sandor once and he yelled at her in a froth rage.

"Has your mother mentioned any of your prospects to you, my Lady?" The princess touched her ear, marked heavily by the grey scale, and shook her head. Ayra looked over to her, sad for once and spoke again to the girl.

"If a husband wants pretty all he has to do is go to the whore houses but someone like you will get a good guy anyway, I guess."

 

Sansa wondered what would have become of Baelish if he hadn't been poisoned by the trophies the brotherhood brought back. He...admittedly would not care to take Winterfell for his own and would never try to put on his own children as its claimant...but he still would have tried to married her mother, one way or another.

Since their talks with the Lord Hand Davos, her mother had been treating her as if she were her own woman and not just a child to Arya’s disgust, but then again all of their dynamics have changed. She remembered that some members of the court had told her in confidence that while Hoster Tully was waiting for a son, Catelyn had been proved to be the first born any father could ask for- and maybe that was where Arya got some of her wolf spirit from. Between her and Bran they would be a formidable duo- especially since the women of Bear Island were still going strong and Alys Karst-Thenn- Alys Thenn had her own army. There wouldn’t be much for her sister to have to embroider.

Shireen blushed so red looked like her face was going to explode- Sansa knew her ire was at the end of its rope when a broken wail just finished in the hall, Jayne’s screams. A minute or two of silence passes, and their mother comes out covered in sweat and a broken smile on her face.

"Robb has a daughter. It's a girl'" The hall was hushed quietly and she knew she had the break the silence somehow.

"...it'll be too soon for Jeyne to leave. She might still get pregnant again or..." Robb was on a deadline for an heir- either Jeyne would get hurt again or he would have to father a bastard. Neither one was an option Sansa thought her mother would want to hear. Shireen picked up again,

"Congratulations on the child. May she be strong and..." The princess trailed off, not quite knowing what to say in this circumstance. Truthfully Sansa couldn’t understand why the girl would want to be at the birth of the Stark baby, but there it was.

"Thank you, your grace. If I could please speak with you, Sansa." She bowed to everyone else and followed her mother into Jeyne’s room with the last few women cleaning up. In her goodsister’s arm was a little baby girl with a nice dark stock of hair, she had that for her at least.

 

“I already know, Mother. I…” her mother sighed and took the babe into her arms.

 

“We’ve talked about it. Jeyne’s daughter will be weaned on a wetnurse and they’ll try for another baby. Besides…there will be Beth Cassel, at Winterfell.” Sansa had heard that a child feed on the mother would have siblings later than those who hadn’t.

 

The soft little noises her niece had been making stirred something nice and warm in her, a little hope that she hadn’t felt in a long time.

 

“My child would be a Stark, Mother, and a Stark alone.” Her mother’s hand stilled from soothing the baby and gave her a look.

 

“I know youthful indiscretions and who you are. I wouldn’t think that you’re looking to have a natural children so please don’t speak like that.” It would be natural, Sansa thought, rubbing the end of her sleeve. It would simply be _my_ child.

 

“I understand. I will go tell Robb and the court the news. Is there a name for the girl?” Lady Stark brushed her granddaughter’s little tears away.

 

“Jeyne named her Lyarra, after your grandmother, I suppose.” She knew her mother was still grieving and that her actions wouldn’t mend it quite yet, but she’d never felt this distance from her mother so deeply before. Even during the months of being a hostage she had the dream of being held and loved again.

 

As she left the room, Arya and Princess Shireen had already been sent away, and Sandor fell into step behind her. He wouldn’t talk of _what_ they were or even would become. For the first time the eyes all over the city were peering more scrupulously away from her.

 

Sandor’s guiding hand on the small of her back, too, was the growing warm feeling inside.

V.

"Action must be taken, Davos." It was just the two of them in the room as King Stannis overlooked the red keep. He'd had several causes of complaint from the farmland victims of the war of five kings, especially in the Riverlands, but there was nothing quite so finished about everything with Robb Stark and his daughter still lingering in the castle, Lord Renly's urgence towards the throne, and the Greyjoys which have still not bowed Coupled that with the last of Tywin's forces chipping away around the Westerlands, his lord was correct. There were still many things to have action on. Dorne, itself, still existed.

 

"If we direct the Riverlands towards the Iron Isles there might be some answers to your questions." Stannis frowned and looked closer at the maps,

 

"And what? Become Aegon the Conqueror again with Harran's bane?" Davos didn't hesitate to mention that many of the Northman would swear fealty alone if it meant that the Ironborn would pay for their raids. It would be an easy way to redirect the forces.

 

"We'll simply have to go to Riverrun ourselves. Quell the population there and force the point of the Iron Islands. The seastone chair is still a mockery and their drowned gods are almost a jape on good sense" Davos stilled. It wasn’t a surprise considering that Melisandre had asked to return to Dragonstone with Selyse to work with the dragons and see what the fire could bring them there.

 

"You in the Riverlands and your wife on the Narrow Sea- did you...are you planning to let Renly have the throne? He will not relinquish it once you return. You know that." Stannis smirked if it could be called anything.

 

"Renly wants his galas and his champions and his wedding- and he shall have it. Once Twyin's forced are brought down. He embarks on the morning and it was thought that I should leave Loras to guard “his majesty". My council will hold, and Shireen the throne." Dangerous and darker thoughts than Davos ever wanted to admit flutter through his head. This city had ruined many and poor Shireen was just a child. It wouldn’t be the most gastly murder even in the past summer.

 

"My lord," he began but Stannis cut off his argument with a hand. He stilled.

 

"No, I'd never be so callous with my daughter. You arranged to stay here, as are the younger ladies of the court. She needs her peers in ways that I was never able to reach. If harm comes to Shireen amongst them it speaks to the answer that they will die and face the repercussions of the matter." He held the dagger that was pitching the Iron Islands towards the edge of the table.

 

"Davos, I've heard more rumors of dragons, and of the Greyjoy's attempts with Aerys' daughter. If....if the Iron Isles, Dorne, and _Dragons_ ," he bit out the last bit with barely contained exasperation, but Davos understood.

 

“Is it your intention to begin yet another war just as winter approaches? Even the Iron Born are tentative at sea during the storming seasons.” His sons had already stowed and sheltered the majority of the fleet for the winter; it was another reason why they were able to put off appointing a master of the seas and fleet so soon. There were the contentions from the men in the Crownlands who’d thought the post would be given as a boon and from his friend Sallador Saan, waiting for his due.

“We secure the Lannisters and meet with the Dornishmen. I will not entertain anything the Iron Born are doing and I cannot fight the phantom of Aerys from Essos.” It was difficult to watch Stannis admit that little could be done in any decisive manner.

“You still lack your Kingsgaurd.” Davos watched his king grit his teeth down and flip a parchament over. “ I’ve been provided with a list of duitable people according to the rest of the small council. Loras Tyrell remains the only decent one- he’d rather not be a second Kingslayer and Renly wouldn’t have it done as such.” He never liked how the fights between brothers player out, two parts laughter to one bitter. He waited silently for Stannis to make his problems known about the list: the fallacies, the favors being granted, that _honor_ of wearing a white cloak.

When no answer came he prompted his king, “Do you not believe these men capable of defending your family?” The names were familiar, if distant, but nothing stuck out at him in such a bad way.

“Renly’s own guard of Rainbow Knights is omitted from this list. What we’re seeing is the leftovers. Commander Jon Snow has not put his name on the list.” Ah.

“He is the Commander of the City’s Watch. There is more peacekeeping in King’s Landing since even before the war. Jon has never seemed to be a man to fold from a conflict.” Stannis gritted his teeth.

“Until he isn’t the Commander anymore and he returns to the North. Rejoins his brothers at the Wall. Takes service in Renly’s Guard. I have failed in my promise to him and have in writing how little it means.” He hardly thought this was Snow being passive in his anger towards his Grace. From how frequently he’d been given updates on the city’s walls and the state of the people, Jon was flourishing in his job and pleased. To correct Stannis in the middle of his more troubled thoughts could lead to a disaster.

“You’ve yet to knight him. He’s turned down Winterfell and King Guard, but my Grace, you _can_ offer him that.” The pen in his hand looked like it was about to snap.

“Get Snow in here.”

 

 


	5. Chapter Five

I.

Renly smirked at Jon as her drew the paperwork out for his host.

“Certainly there are still better places for you to be now that my brother has knighted you. Well bedded- in battle, mostly, like the other knights in Baratheon service?” He canted himself towards Snow’s frame only to be purposefully ignored. It was the first time there was a proper march out of the city since the structures of the gates had been rebuilt.

“I’ve been spoiled with choices,” Jon had said at the quick pace of the defense structure built of timber wood, firecrafted clay, and more wrought metal than the wall and much of the North had ever seen spent.

Ghost walked around sniffing the various carts being led away by ponies that he was coming close to dwarfing.

“The reasons King Stannis knighted me had little to do with battle prowess.” It was a wry answer and the closest Jon had come to admitting that there were differences in treatment between him and his brother- ones that he himself had never really considered. He doubted Robert would have had much to say on the matter either, he supposed.

“It’s a damn waste. I can think of half a dozen other positions for you than glorified gatekeeper.” Renly scoffed a bit at Jon’s laughter and asked what he thought was so funny.

“It was Stannis that told me I would be wasted on the Wall, you say I’m wasted here. The two of you both get a more than a little upset when something gets put down where you don’t want it.” Renly flushed a bit and tightened the reins of his horse for a distraction.

“No one compares me to Stannis, Jon, and Robert all but raised me by the court and Storm’s End. If anything we’ve got Robert’s stubborn personality.” Renly frowned at Jon’s profile, unused to the remarks he made. There weren’t many close enough to Stannis to have anything favorable to say about him, less that would dare compare him to the other members of his family. It was probably nothing, for Renly saw very little alike between Jon and his own brother, but the Northmen mentioned enough of them tussling in the practice yard about “old times”.

“I’ve only seen Robert from the distance at Winterfell so mayhaps. What I can say is that you and Stannis share that same determination to keep your own.” He couldn’t refute what Jon had said even if he didn’t agree. Brienne was approaching with the last of the rainbow guard headed towards the Westerlands. Even though Stannis’s front was to calm the Riverlands and intimidate the Iron Isles, it would do well for Tywin to feel like he was surrounded from all fronts.

“Fare well, Jon. You may yet be a Stark next time we meet.” Sooner or later he’d be able to convince the man of what _could_ be his and that it was certainly better than what Stannis could offer even in his best humors.

“You as well Lord Renly. Perhaps some lemon water will be waiting for your return.” It took _that_ sort of comment to make Jon’s face tilt into a smile. He had none of the devotional amour of Loras and certainly not the roguish quality of men from the Stormlands, but there was something haunting in Jon Snow’s being that he wanted to taste.

“My arse I will.” Renly mounted the horse and trotted outwards towards the Gold Road and the songs that awaited him.

 

II. 

The mornings at court were better than during Joffrey’s reign and it felt like the air of everything had changed. _She_ had changed, but liked the ladies from the Reach and Margaery as a pleasant enough person. She smelled of the roses Tyrells were so famous for.

“Will your brother be participating in the tourney?” The maids gossiped about his Grace and Prince Renly’s debates on celebration- a modest affair was decided for at the end of the month to culminate his reign and for support against the rebels in the Westerands. It would also be when her family was leaving her in King’s Landing and the beginning of Robb’s deadline for an heir.

“Robb will not, nor will Jon. He’s intent on using this to sort out who might be in the Kingsguard, other than Ser Loras.” Sansa did smile at the end of their table, because Arya was in the company of Princess Shireen and Little Lord Dayne, both of them to be guests of honor for the princess. Many ladies, including those of the Reach, had mentioned how lacking in refinement Princess Shireen was: dark, scarred, and serious like her father compared to how her cousin had been but that attitude sat well with Arya and Edric.

“I suppose it is our lots; our men are in no position to folly themselves for fun. We must seek our favors elsewhere.” Margaery didn’t know the half of it, Sansa thought, as she sipped the tea she’d had Shae provide her with. She’d known, now at least, what profession she’d had and asked for some advice on getting a child and quickly. Tea in mornings and no wine for her, double for him.

“With Stannis and Lady Selyse gone, Shireen will be acting as host. It’s a good place for her to begin.” Sansa began working the crowds under starvation and finished with the threat of beheading. Her scars were slowly, slowly fading with time. She’d seen Margaery glance at them but never stare.

“She’ll have Lord Seaworth in one ear and children in the other. It’ll be a fun affair, at least.” Only a joust with no melee and a host of bards and fools to pass the time. It was the fantasy of a young girl and one that Sansa would try to enjoy.

“To fun. Even the kinds your mother wouldn’t approve of.” Sansa startled her drink as Margaery raised a toast to her as well, the same kind of brewed tea.

“You are not yet married.”

“Nor are you.” Sansa blinked but didn’t respond. She hadn’t felt like that in ages- like a maiden in truth. To many of the lesser ladies and wives of knights sworn to the Crownlands she had been the _other_ princess to be and the only one left after Joffrey had murdered Myrcella. Everyone agreed to her station as a woman in earnest.

“I trust you, Lady Tyrell. I’ve been wrong to put that faith in a great many other people, but I do not think you mean me any harm. In a romantic and spiritual way, I believe I am married though not in the eyes of the kingdom. Any baby of mine will be a Stark. I’ll see to it.” Sansa knew she couldn’t guarantee it and would live with the shame for her entire life. Her mother would most likely never forgive her.

“Bold. If we’re speaking truths I would have rathered you a sister of mine.” Their mothers were coming close to break their fasts; they had been to the Sept early and speaking in equal agony about their sons. She hadn’t been able to walk there properly yet.

Shorter and shorter her family would be here and hopefully shorter _yet_ that Sandor would finally treat her as a wife.

III.

If being obstinate were a trait for honors, the Crow Knight would have been the most lauded man in Westeros. His venture into the Riverlands would begin with a headache, it seemed, if Snow were to start in on his standards for the wildlings.

“You mean to make Mance’s son a kneeler!” He’d offered-graciously- to find a suitable match for Snow’s ward in the Crownlands, for Jon to throw it in his face. The child was in the care of his sisters and Marya Seaworth for the time while the non-needed members prepared for Shireen’s tourney. There were only so many fights Stannis would be willing to lose in a day and this wasn’t to be one of them.

“This is why half my men, and more than, think that Eddard Stark got you on a wildling if witnesses hadn’t seen you in King’s Landing.” Jon looked calm, calmer than when he decided to stay as Snow but titled the Crow Knight but with an odd look on his face. Stannis was _King_ and it was his prerogative to know the ongoings of his own court. Inquiries had been made about Ned Stark and the return from Dorne with his bastard babe to anyone who might have remembered. Some of his men and the Watch hadn’t picked up that the Wildlings japed about Snow being a Stark by-blow from them and now he wore the scars to prove it, even as he cares for their king’s son.

“He will make that choice when he’s old enough to choose. He was born a free man. The cities might be a better place for him,” was all that Jon said but Stannis thought more of it. It would be a better place for _both_ of them. Bastards found themselves lords in cities where linage meant nothing.

“Do you not consider yourself as free as the Wildlings you led? They as much as the Watch abandoned you to death.” The leather in Jon’s glove crinkled in his grip.

“Your Grace I swore myself into service to you. I am not your Lord Stark, I am not your Kingsguard. You asked me to serve you and that means to serve your people. For every lord and knight aligned for you there might be thrice more that hate you. A sword won’t save you, nor will your justice.” Melisandre had warned him much of the same in the fires before she left. Her desperation to wake the dragons from their eggs was bordering on worrisome.

“You claim my service and yet you speak with Varys, of all people.” Stannis grit his teeth when Renly shared that bit of information. Neither brother had liked the spider in Robert’s court but none could remove the footholes he had without stepping in nine more. Pycelle was being taken care of by Davos when the time came only for the service he’d shown Robert. He’d pay for the crimes against Arryn eventually.

“I speak with Varys about my mother. Your Grace, I’ve seen every promise I’ve made broken and told well done for the efforts. What do you _want_ of me.” The conversation was not going as planned. He’d bid his wife adjournment and wanted only to speak with Jon before leaving the kingdom to his Hand. Jon always had words for him to see the reason of his behalf- he’d yet to see the new knight as progressively sad and withdrawn as he’d had tonight.

“May your answers find you well, Snow.” There was a dark look on Jon’s face at the avoidance of the question before he, too, bowed and left the yard with Stannis’ most loyal bannermen.

IV.

“You seemed weighed down by more than thoughts today, Lord Hand.” Davos looked down at the dwarf that scooted himself onto the council’s chair much like he’d seen his youngest sons do.

“A kingdom to run and still war and winter. I’m afraid our King estimates too much of me this time.” He’d been told to not let others make a mockery of his thoughts or his slower ways, but he knew to be upfront about his failings. A Hand that couldn’t read and had never learned to manage a household let alone a kingdom. If he were honest with himself he would have asked Stannis to appoint him to the Maritime Fleet- but who to be Hand and help the King?

Instead of assuaging his fears Tyrion nodded solemnly and briefed through his reports, “Robert Baratheon needed a strong Hand, and Joffrey needed a kick in the arse, but Stannis has his own opinions. You have less of a kingdom to rule and more of a means to make it happen. No one wants to displease the king and you’re a lot easier to deliver bad news to.” If there weren’t such a bad history between Stannis and so many other people, he might have been able to appreciate this Lannister’s frankness at the very least.

He’d only ever seen the workings of the council from a few courses with Stannis but even he realized that the powers were divided in many which ways. Lannister, friendly with Renly and Jon both, a vacancy, and Melisandre whispering into the King’s own ear. Grand Maester Pycelle saying much of what he thought everyone would want him to say (Stannis had, loudly, mentioned that he will be seeking a new maester from the Citadel)Much of the unrest had calmed down since most of the northern host left, a bit somberly. Varys had stayed silent through most of the ordeal and seemed to be unchanged even after all the changes to the throne.

“Lord Seaworth, your wife is the most commendable woman in the kingdom.” The council doors opened once again to admit Jon and Ghost followed by the very quaking Pycelle. The boy looked rested for the first time in weeks- if only Stannis would follow suit.

“Gilly has not yet been relieved of her duties from the Tarleys?” His wife had mentioned that she might step in to watch over Jon’s ward in the absence of his wilding foster mother. He took a seat next to Tyrion and glanced around for everyone else.

“Yes, his daughters very much liked spoiling their niece and nephew. Randyll returns in two moons and promises to not stand for such nonsense anymore.” He spoke the last few words as if mimicking someone. Pycelle looked like he swallowed a lemon while Tyrion laughed.

“Ser Crow you’ve been conned. You’re the only man in Westeros to be raising a child without even the fun of having done the deed.” Davos saw Jon roll his eyes.

“His grace says he will not be joining us today and to carry on without him.” Today was the day Queen Selyse and Melisandre were leaving for Dragonstone as well and he was giving them his undivided attention…and doubtfully to be a devoted husband. The Red Priestess would undoubtedly have words for him that would haunt the halls in her absence.

He knew what he would talk about first, then.

“The Septons want to talk about making amends for what Joffrey had done on their Sept.” It was nasty talk for dark people. Jon, the Crow Knight as his chosen name went to be, spoke first with some hesitance, Tyrion’s mismatched eyes and Varys quiet stare on him the most. Eddard Stark’s ghost would not soon be gone.

“I’m assuming that the Faith of the Seven do not follow blood rites.” At times, like these, he remembered that the Northeners had their own gods that had only faces in trees and other aspects that seemed both dark and grim to the Faith and unusual to the Red God as well.

“No, they do not. This was viewed as a sacrilege.” Pycelle spoke up and looked around the faces. It was Tyrion that tried offering the first answer.

“A lord belongs to the land, a lady to it’s people. Wouldn’t Queen Selyse be more inclined to make amends with the Faith?” Davos supposed he was right but given the awkward shifting in everyone’s seat meant that the Lannister was not as acquainted with Selyse’s practices or how deeply they ran into the priestess.

“She follows a different Faith and I don’t believe Shireen has an opinion in either way but won’t be likely to speak out against her mother.” Davos saw Tyrion wilt for a minute, unsure how to progress. It was strange to have everyone in the kingdom get accustomed to the Red God and much of it had been unwelcomed as Davos had seen it. Pycelle frowned and thumbed at the short crop of his beard.

“He’s not wrong. It should be a lady that speaks on behalf to the Faith. If Queen Selyse and Princess Shireen won’t, perhaps Lady Margaery or Lady Sansa?” The Maester looked over at Jon for an answer that Davos was sure wouldn’t come.

“I cannot speak for them nor can I speak enough about the Seven to say what might happen. What I can tell you is that the tournament will hopefully stay to bards and bands because we’re not ready to defense against a full melee and that the constructions of the Cities’ gates are complete. There are more volunteers for the City Watch but many of them will be turned away.”

“Is there nothing you haven’t defensed against, Jon?” Tyrion shuffled through the papers on the table and threw some of them away- they were not issues, he said, and the important ones couldn’t be addressed yet since Stannis wouldn’t have his final say in the matter.

Davos ran his hand over the finger joints and stared at the map before him. They had traced the path Renly and Stannis would take, as well as the current whereabouts of Tywin and his forces. The information from the Brotherhood without Banners added some clarity to the ongoings in the Wester-Riverland skirmishes, but there was still uncertainty about who held Harrenhall.

“Maester Pycelle, what do you suggest we enforce against Lannister if they are pressed towards the Gold Road?” Stannis has given him an order to investigate what he already knew was true- Pycelle’s future was dependent on his answer. He knew many Maesters in his travels, intelligent and caring men like Cressen who would die for Stannis happiness.

Davos knew why they should not like that from him.

“From what I remember of their guard the men would stay close to the rivers loot through men traveling that way.” Tyrion shook his head, knowing more about Lannister fighting tactics than anyone in the room. It fit well with what Renly’s knights reported in as being the _opposite_ of what Tywin would do.

“Thank you Maester Pycelle. The guards will escort you to your chambers until the road becomes safe for you to return to the Citadel.” The man was shocked but no one else at the table was. One Lannister at the table was enough even in Jaime was recovering in his cells thumbless and wounded.

 

V.

It was quiet for the first time in ages- often Stannis or Renly’s servants would be calling for whatever reason, or it was the affairs with the Starks and his niece Lyarra. Mance’s child was playing by the hearth with Ghost watching over his little moves when the knock came at his door.

Jon wasn’t ashamed to say he checked for his knife before opening the door, only to find a figure half a head shorter than him hesitantly holding her hand up for a second longer than was delegated by nervousness. Princess Shireen was followed by one of Davos’ sons that frequently shadowed her where she went- it looked a lot like the one he’d had trailing after Sansa before.

“Princess?” He knelt and rose again before letting the two children into his chambers, confused to why she came to see him so late in the evening.

“Thank you, Ser Jon.” He’d entertained far less people in his entire life than those that appeared to him in King’s Landing- many of them the royal family themselves. The closest he’d come otherwise were the visits of Tormond and Val when the Knight’s Watch sneered at their requests and they thought a more personal touch was needed.

“Anything I could help you with?” The girl touched her face, looked to the floor, and then everywhere _but_ him before starting on a tangent.

“Your family has been very kind to me. Arya and Sansa especially…more than the rest of the court, honestly.” He nodded. Arya has often spent her days here chasing Edric with swords and spending time with Shireen before floating to wherever she felt the need to be. Most of the court still differed to Sansa’s wishes in some manners and equally unsure what to make of her support of the new Baratheon princess.

He stayed silent and waited for more to come forward.

“I don’t want to start a scandal, especially now, so I haven’t told Lady Stark or my mother. Lady Sansa believes she is married to Clegane. The servants told me that she wore his cloak at court and by R’hollr they were married by fire. I think…I think she’s trying to have her own baby.” Jon had a giant slam their fist into his stomach with a more gentle force.

“She’s not sworn any oaths before a weirwood tree, has she?” Shireen turned for “no”, when the Seaworth boy interrupted, “Yeah. She kept him hiding by their and promised to take him up North.” Jon felt his head throb without pause at this news.

“Thank you, Princess. Please return to your room with your knights. With both your parents gone it’s not fit for you to wander about the castle yourself.” He ushered the younger children out before collecting his coat and Aemon and headed up to the floor where the Starks and leaders of the Northern host were being kept.

VI.

“Get the tar heated and throw it off to the side!” Queen Selyse grabbed the captain’ shoulder away from the helm and ordered the soldiers into action over the ship. There was another ship off the other side of the gulf that seemed to be the wreck of this same damage.

The chaos around the ship quelled once the first white walker was melted and lost its grip on the hull of the ship. There was only so much she could do on the open ocean, but R’hollr would not allow her mission to fail- she’d seen her end in his fires. These wrights and walkers were too far from Winter to have the strength they’d had at the wall and the deeps would drown them as much as men.

What felt like hours amounted to only minutes as the captain got his footing back and the bleeding to his head stopped. What hadn’t gone was the frost from his face and the deep, blank look in his now ice cold eyes. He would be sacrifice to the Lord of Light

“Mychal, get your men and steer towards the wreck. There may still be living people aboard.” Selyse seemed to feel calmer after the commotion ended and collapsed into her side. Melisandre pet the loose waves of her Queen’s hair while the men lit the fire around the captain, dead to the world.

“Are you alright?” Selyse only grasped her hand and tucked in closer to her.

“You’re warm. I don’t believe I’ll ever sacrifice enough to the Lord to ever repay him for you.” A tightness grew in her chest at the payment Selyse didn’t know about- not even Stannis knew her place in the world before the fires guided her way. Tattoos were such an easy glamour to conjure.

From behind them the crew questioned the survivors of the wrights attacking the ship. It was a light wood, Dornish, if the sailor was to be believed, and would never have stood against the monsters from the North.

“We’re merely headed to the Free Cities when our ship was attacked by those…creatures.” The tall blonde one spoke truth but the manner of the dark one was discerning, staring at Selyse with fear and apprehension.

“I think not. I know you, boy, your Doran Martell’s child.” Melisandre looked at the Queen who glowered at the boys in front of her, all looking considerably paler and sicker by the second. “Your coming to Dragonstone with our escort- I shall be writing to Lord Martell about your tragedy.”

R’hollr whispered a single word into her ear as she watched the young Martell grit his teeth and bow: _dragons_.


	6. Chapter Six

I.

The ship had not reached Dragonstone a day or even three days later. They were still out to sea when an early Autumn storm threw them out towards Tyrosh. Mychal did not want to deviate much from the course but Melisandre had heard Selyse assure him that the ship's safety was more importantly than timeliness.

This was the will of R'hollr acting itself and making her mission known. She had wanted to reach Dragonstone to wake the dragons only to have her path crossed by the Dornish party. Even without the flames whispering the most clear answer to her, it wasn't a grand deduction to see what the male Martell heir was going to do.

"The blood of the Targaryans flows in both the Martell and Baratheon line, yet you've traveled so far away." Melisandre smiled and sat across from Quentyn Martell and his blond Yronwood, startling the two of them.

"Do you have any more knowledge than I if Stormborn's dragon are truly alive?" They were worse than non-believers in that they didn't expect their excursion to upended as it had been.

"My Lady I have no idea what you are speaking of." Martell stared through her, a little over her ear, like he was attempting to pay attention.

"I know the creatures that attacked your ship and killed your men. Dragonfire would be useful to kill them, yes, but so are many other things. You wish to bring the lovely Daenerys to Westeros as your bride, in truth a woman as foreign as myself." The others in their party were holding court with Selyse and the Florent knights in her company, even as the crew bemoaned not ending up closer to Lys.

"My lady I know nothing of what you speak of." Flashes danced in her fires last night. Truly the time speeding towards Winter was augmenting her ability to see more of the wonder shown to her. A flicker once was now an eye and she'd seen them before.

"This voyage of yours was doomed and many of you marked for death." The vibrant purple eyes in the Martell cast- it was there, smiling as a reflection to Quentyn in front of her, and yet not his. "You'll find the dragonsblood but it is not with beauty." Yronwood frowned when she took Martell's hand into her own.

"Three heads; crowns. And none for you."

"You'll excuse me if I don't believe you. I'm simply on a voyage to the Free Cities my mother had spoken about." He was being cold to her but no colder than others that did not believe. Men like Jon and Stannis offered no laudable faith, and Davos understood devotion. She'd seen fire in enough souls (the North called it wolfblood, simple grit in the Iron Islands) to have recognized power in the Stark girls; but utter ignorance was deplorable.

"His Grace, Stannis Baratheon values the truth, do you find it admirable as well?" There was a dragon bringing itself closer to them (or use closer to it?) but the paths around his quickened and waned a second so longer than normal. R'Hllor had not yet decided on fate for this man or if fire would take him at all.

The few Free folk that had spoken to her at the wall went to their graves knowing that the Southron people understood little and less than an arms length. Melisandre found she believed that about the Dornishmen.

II.  


If Jon had thought for a few moments how he might have ended in this particular situation he would imagine it were the stories of a drunken loon. The guardsmen nodded as he walked past them and into the chamberhall the Starks were being kept in, prisoners but in far better arrangements than most would have been had. The servant girls told him enough about how Sansa was kept during those long months here alone and he wondered if this was a result of that.

_If she was still even a virgin_ , Jon thought in a small panic as he made it to the lady's solar. Standing outside was the Hound looking as arrogant and dangerous as ever but if his time at the Wall taught him anything it was what real cruelty looked like.

"Clegane, can we speak?" A beady eye looked down at him and the predominantly empty hall.

"Trying to see if this dog'll bark on command?" The man smelled like old wine though his attitude wasn't like that of a drunk's.  Jon suspected that was the odour that seeped into his clothes in this rotting place even when he had better options: Renly had spoken, at length, about the Hand's tournament and how Clegane walked away with the honor and gold. It was a mark against the Lannister pride when he rubbed it in.

"I'm about to ask Sansa if she'd been to bed with you- and I was hoping you would either lie to me now or later." Whatever lie, Jon didn't know, but it was one he expected. The Hound stilled with a pristine evidence that he was not drunk and standing at his half-sister's door and twisted his face into a demented snarl worsened by the burns.

"She's the one with all her pretty lies that she can chirp. I haven't fucked her." Jon hesitated when the Hound stepped aside to let him in.

He was familiar with rapists and liars, with how petty Sansa could be, and just how irregular everything in King's Landing was.

"I think I believe you. But as it is, you're relieved from your duties for the next fortnight. You can stay in the barracks until then."

"I'd rather split you on your own gods damn sword, ser," He... Jon couldn't feel angry or irritated. Had he not purposefully took a walk and have the Marya to watch Aemon and rushed up in blinding anger, it would have bothered him.

"No matter what Sansa says, if Robb or Lady Catelyn hear about this you'll be dead. Sansa has enough courtesy to excuse a thousands things- the hangman's been waiting for more Lannister bannermen like you. Do both yourselves a favor, just once, and let her be for now." A woman's virtue being at stake would never really wash away- Sandor Clegane could but put away, easily, and never whispered about around Sansa's womanhood again.

"Good night, Hound." Jon purposefully didn't look at him when he crossed the threshold to see his goodsister, Sansa, and Arya all awake and by the fireplace watching Lyarra sleep. It was a queer sight to see the two sisters get along better, but their time apart had changed them. He didn't want to say it was for the better but now at least they had gotten along.

"Jon! What are you doing here so late?" Arya was the first to see him and left the other three by the fire. Jeyne, Robb's wife, looked tired as any new mother had, but still stayed away.

"Evening. I need to speak with Lady Sansa, please." They didn't know what he was hear for if the next words out of her mouth meant anything.

"I can meet you at chambers, Clegane will escort me." Jon knew it was meant to be a dismissal but it wasn't going to keep like that.

"No, he will not. For the rest of Lady Stark's time here Clegane will be served in other parts of the castle." Sansa stilled as she was getting up and Arya had picked up on the change in the air.

"Jon?" Sansa looked scared, even as Arya started asking questions about things. Jeyne seemed to pick up on the tension and took Lyarra's squirming bundle up and brought Arya to the hand.

"Come, I'm sure Ser Jon will explain more tomorrow. Come, Arya." His sister looked stubborn but went with her goodsister after more platitudes. Sansa had stayed silent even as they left the room and walked the hallway. She looked around for Clegane and wilted when he was not there.

'At least someone listened to me,' Jon thought when Sansa twirled around.

"You had no business sending my guard away." If she wanted to talk about this in properties then he certainly would. It was only through the slimmest respect he had for what she'd been through that he hadn't gone straight to Robb to sort this out. Clegane was her guard...probably since the men at arms from Winterfell had been executed.

"Nor does the Red God have any business marrying you to him, despite what Melisandre says." Sansa stiffened next to him and stopped moving in the hallway. She looked pale and ready for quite the fright. Ghost was at the other end to watch for people trying to intrude on them.

"What did you do."

"I'm sorry?"

"What did you do to him." Jon grabbed her by the shoulders to calm her down after finally catching on to what she was afraid of.

"Clegane is fine. I didn't go to Robb or your mother yet. You should be the first to explain your reasoning before anything rash happens." That seemed to calm her down but she was still trembling uncontrollably.

"It's the simple answer to everything; my baby will be a Stark. I trust him Jon, like I can't anyone else. Please don't let him die it's what I want."

"Please, please tell me he hasn't laid with you." The furious blush on her face was matched by the crack of her hand against his cheek.

"How dare you!"

"You think raising a bastard is worth this! Any of it?" If Jon expected any of this, he would have been lying. Just what had happened to Sansa to bring her from the proper little girl that couldn't even utter the word to the women before him planning on her own affair.

"My child will not be baseborn. It's mine and it was a part of the surrender. I am to stay in King's Landing and I and only myself am in control of whom I marry. King Stannis allows all religions- I, I don't expect you to understand." A single servant walk around the bend with a tray of steaming water, before quickly walking away again and Ghost's approach.

"I beg you, please speak with your mother about this. Melisandre's words are not meant to be a rock to build on, Sansa. If you truly believe this is what is right then it shouldn't be shuttered away like shame." Jon knew secrets and how damaging they were to a child and expected Sansa to have even the slightest regret.

"I'll tell mother as I need to." Jon snatched her arm back when she tried to walk past him. It felt overly cruel to him but she would not feel this shame if he had any say in the matter.

"To your rooms, Lady Stark, or to your mothers." Sansa was still frowning severely at him while retreating back to the quarters she'd held with Arya and Lady Jeyne.

Much like everything, Jon stood in the hall for the rest of the evening, wondering what was the right thing.

III.  


"You intend for your reign to be christened in blood, then, your Grace."  In a fortnight of casual travel, as recommended by the knights in his service to set the Crownlands in order with the Riverlands,  Stannis had finally made it to Harrenhall with Edmure Tully to the hospitality of Roose Bolton. It didn't escape his notice that the Stark banners were still out, if not flying over the remaining towers.

"Lannister men, then yours. Almost every village within this castle's land have had horror stories of these Brave Companions, often with the Mountain. You allowed them to live, Lord Bolton." Roose Bolton was a gaunt man, vigor and health stolen even before he was born. Stannis had never seen the man truly well not even after the birth of his son Domeric.

"You can't expect to kill every mercenary in war." Stannis grit his teeth at Edmure Tully's input even as his uncle the Blackfish frowned, interrupting,

"He can, and will. I have no great love for men that can't abide by loyalties. Edmure, understand what is happening here, and learn from it." There had been many losses during the war. He could respect Brynden Tully and how he’d had handled Hoster's death, especially in giving his nephew much needed lessons that the boys father had not. Edmure remained confused.

"You are the Paramount Lord of the Riverlands and under your and King Stark's war your people were reduced to cattle, raped, and starved. Convince yourself of whatever justice is needed for your people before your return to your seat." The young man flushed red and looked about the room- no one was going to come to his aid in this one.

"I choose to spare their lives." Edmure Tully stood tall and proud when Horpe showed his hand. The only one of his men at this council, Ser Richard Horpe, unraveled the parchment in his hand.

"The plans of the castle were found. It's true- there was over thirty hearths in the great chamber, more along the useable towers." Stannis nodded.

"Very well. Lord Tully, I hope you learn but I can not allow these crimes to stand. The Brave Companions, Lannister forces, and other mercenaries and servants on unknown loyalties will be put to death. Lord Bolton, you are hereby stripped of this castle. You will return North peacefully. Horpe, you may do as needed." It was obvious that Bolton didn't expect anything else and bowed his head low before rounding his men out of the chamber. Edmure Tully, however, was not as quiet.

"Unknown loyalties! The lines between this war changed as often as the moon. You'll murder everyone?" Tully and Horpe stayed silent in his presence, and one to the men that followed the will of the Red God stoked the to an even greater heat.

"Horpe, in return for your service and valor, I am naming you the Lord of Harrenhall. See to it that justice is served. Lord Tully, does this please you now? Does it make the distance between crime and the punishment of your people easier to take or are you burdened to such matters as yourself? Choose, Tully." The young lord was visibly swallowing his defiance down and spoke nothing.

"My Lords! Please, I beg you, I didn't aid any man at arms, I didn't!" The doors burst open as two guardsmen brought a battered woman before them, face beaten and bloody with more teeth missing than possessed in her skull. Her words screeched ever as the red foamed spittle ran down her chin. Stannis asked for the explanation, knowing what was to come next.

"She's the whore Pia, your grace. Fucked her way through Lannister men til Lord Bolton found a use for her." Horpe bowed and took the woman up in front of the flames before starting the prayer he'd heard so often at nightfall. Edmure Tully ended his silence.

"Your Grace, she is a whore, not a...a" The loss of words overcame the young man again. Stannis surmised that even if they were uttered more than likely they would have been drowned out from the whore's dying screams as the fire started to eat away at her flesh and bone.

_Davos and Jon both would have put an end to this_ , he thought. For all of Tully's bluster about the virtue of forgiveness he was not ready to bring them under his thrall.

"We leave again for Riverrun in the morning. You'll learn this lesson everyday until you understand, Lord Tully." It would be a long and wearisome week for them all.

IV.  


"OLE RENLY REIGNS OVER THE RAINS," Davos smiled at the bard that walked with his mandolin between the stands of the crowd, particularly amused at the children that wore bright colored hats and silks even though it was well into the colder days of Autumn and not likely to be seasonal anytime soon. Orche, the signer, nodded in respect before strumming a complimentary tune for Marya, and joined the larger cacophony of noise in the rounded theater. Where there would usually be a melee and joust was replaced with a host of bards, jokers, and fun for fancy entertainers.

"I notice you don't mind Thoros as much as Melisandre, my dear."

"He's blowing fire for children and she wants to burn them." He couldn't shake Stannis' reliance on her so all he could do was make sure the people were protected from her as best as possible. A few feet more away on the largest platform was Princess Shireen and her little entourage: Arya Stark, Edric Dayne, and his son guarding over them with Ghost. A few other ladies were milling around the stage including Sansa Stark and Margaery Tyrell, plucking flowers from their wreaths and throwing them onto the jesters.

Marya squeezed his arm and resettled Stannis in his squirming arms.

"You will do fine."  Davos kissed the top of his wife's head before looking at the crowd again- across the way Tyrion Lannister saw him and gestured his skin of wine in a celebratory shake.  Hooked around his lap was what he thought was the whore, Shae, that he'd told Stannis about.

"I don't understand it, you've faced storms with more bravery than this. Go on, see if Princess Shireen needs anything done. Poor girl needs someone to, the Mother knows Selyse doesn't." Marya scoffed and took a flaming sparkler away from Steffon who was waving it too close to the baby.

There was a loud drum and two trumpets that came out of nowhere while guiding someone in a dark black cloak. It made the other bands stop short it was so abrupt. Davos saw a few of the guards around them frown, and Varys, idling around the scene, was also startled.

"Where is Jon?" Davos asked the knight next to him as Shireen stood up to see what was causing the interruption.

"My Lord, he took some of the men who had wished to be competitors aside. Should I go retrieve him?"

"Yes, Please." He kissed Marya again before hurrying over to the main stage in front of Shireen and her guests. Along the way he saw Lady Catelyn and Lady Alerie push through the crowds as well. The children had been left at the dias to their own keeping- the hooded figure stopped  a few paces away from them at the center of the venue.

"Please, identify yourself." Davos came to a stop a few feet from the man in the hood. The cloak was thrown off and onto the ground, revealing a heavily made up jester, tense and stiff, and not saying a word. The trumpeters had fell back into the crowd.

"Ser, please." Davos glanced around- most of the guards had their hands on their sword pommels and yet he had nothing. On the dias, Arya Stark and Lord Dayne already had their swords drawn in front of Shireen.

"Mute as a mummer!" A drunk from the crowd hobbled to the jester and dumped his stein of beer on the man. The make up dribbled away slowly and stained the man's clothes with white- Davos noticed that his clothes were actually festive either. There was no decoration to them only murky brown as if he'd been sleeping in a ditch rather than performing for King's Landing.

It was Lady Lolys, heavily pregnant and closer to the jester than him, that noticed it first and gave out a blood curdling scream.

Where the greasy white paint fell away was grey scale, not unlike Princess Shireen's, with the red edges of his fleshy skin red and burning from the spread of the infection. It was only after the screaming began did the jester begin to laugh  and run towards the lords and their ladies.

Davos could hear the commotion as people began running and trampling others under their horses; not a minute later Ser Jon had made his way down to the venue's pit and the archers had started firing into the greyscaled jester.

"Jon! Don't let him leave!"

One of them men, on horseback, charged forward and cleaved the jester's head off, spraying his blood over on some of the guards and entertainers still in the crowd. Davos tried to look past the mess and keep people in line but the whole courtyard was panicking. The man on horseback let out a blood curdling scream, seeing the blood on himself and the horse; a gesture and arrows from the archers above landed in the infected jester's body. A few of Jon's men moved forward and slash through the beast's throat...and the rider, as well.

One of the boys that had come out with Jon, pale and ashen, threw mulled wine and a torch at the body before looking to the princess' dias. More and more of the knights and guards men were gathering wood and torches to burn the bodies. He nodded over to the Crow Knight and left him to take care of the people in the courtyard- _where was Shireen_?

"Ser Hand! Ser Seaworth!" A page from the host of knights from the Stormlands ran up to him and tugged on his arm, "The Princess and her ladies are in the throneroom. Everyone is waiting for you."

There were shouts and screams from all corners as everyone was still scrambling around. Ser Loras and Arys Oakheart guarded the throneroom doors not allowing anyone through even as he ushered away. Something ungripped his heart when he saw his family already inside, and Shireen sitting on the Iron Throne, a few small cuts on her hands from the blades.

"Lord Davos..." he approached her and gave the little princess his complete attention, even as she stared blankly through the hall, gaze not resting on anything fully.

"Yes, your highness?" The boy with Jon was there, behind Arya Stark and Lord Dayne, making a fist and releasing it all the same.

"That was because of me, was it not." Davos frowned, even as members of the small council found themselves in the room.

"Lord Davos," she continued, "please find who did this."

V.  


Sansa knew that this war wasn't over, but she thought the worst of it was behind them after the fire they had burning all around the city.  Her mother had ushered the children away as quickly as possible and she hadn't even seen Margaery since.

Instead she was down in the empty chambers housing soldiers walking back and forth so hard and dizzyingly that her bones and the burn on her arm was throbbing with exertion.

"What are you doing down here, Little Bird." There. There.

She moved onto him and tucked her head between the junctures of his armor before he even had a chance to remove his cloak when the tears started coming out.

"You were down there. You could have died. You could be dying." Sansa felt the tears run faster even as she started to hiccup into his shirt. Sandor's body was still tense as a rock but it was unbearable to even think of letting go of him.

"I'm not. Your not. The poor fucks are killing themselves in a cell now." There was still blood on his clothes but not from him, or at least mostly not. He picked her up easily enough and laid her down on his bed of roughspun quilting and pillows so loose and lumpy the wool might have been from last winter.

Sansa looked at him in the dim light, really looked at him, and saw the burns on his face weren't wet. It would never heal to proper skin but the wound didn't fester even as the ear was lost.

"I kept your life, Sandor, and I gave it back to you. Give something to me." Even as he dwarfed her in every respect her grip was strong enough to keep him down and connect their lips for the second time.

"Your brother-"

"Knows. Doesn't understand but he knows and will not let me come to harm." She moved upwards and laid across the bed watching him take the breastplate off slowly to bide more time. His face was in a grimace even as he looked at her.

"Little Bird, you don't know what you want and it's my head in the noose." It would not if there was anything she could do about it. She stood up to her fullest height and started to remove the bracers from his arms.

"I love you. I'll marry you in the Godswood, in a Sept, wherever you might want. If you blame your hesitance on fearing my brothers; Robb married below and broke his own vows. Jon's vows were not upheld. But tell me once, just once, that you don't love me and I'll believe you." She felt enough lashes on her heart to know that it would hurt. It would hurt for days and weeks if he rejected her.

Her hands were still on his arms when he grabbed her by the thighs closer to him and brought them together at their junction. The bed was a thought further away then she could reach with Sandor bruising her already with his hands.

"I love you. I love you. Believe me, I love you." He was alright and so was she. They would be fine from this day and for each one onwards.

 

VI.

 

It was one thing, Renly thought, to be told how to conquer and lead into battle, yet another to figure out footing between mountains and the snow drifts that were encroaching downwards. His men were staying along the Mander river from the Reach and kept the service line up, but where  _ to _ . Where was Tywin Lannister hiding his men? He’d retreated from the Riverlands and hadn’t been seen near the King’s Road since Blackwater Bay had been set aflame.

Some scouts reported that Kevan Lannister might have his troops around the Goldengrove but the question remained how to get the ambush on them.

“Ser Royce! You’ve been in mountains before.” The host in his tent chuckled as Robar the Red walked forward to examine the map in front of them. Being from the Vale meant that he’d climbed rocks quicker than he’s taken to a horse and it showed in the broad stretch of his shoulders.

“Mountains, yes. These traps, hardly.” Renly looked up hoping for a joke but nothing of the sort came.

“Why would you call these mountains a trap?” Robar bent over and pointed around Silverhill, the nearest keep towards them.

“Silverhill  _ doesn’t  _ have the gold Lannister is so famous for but that doesn’t mean that it didn’t try. All of these tunnels are mine shafts that have weakened the rocks underneath. Certainly the minors took care, but marching over that would be hoping a lattice work of holes doesn’t cave in before your feet.” Robar explained clearly as possible, with even Brienne leaning over to understand his explanation. 

_ You’ve given me the great answer. _ Undoubtedly Robert would have thought it more cowardice but he wasn’t about to prance into the lion’s den when he was truly angered- Renly had heard all the stories about the Targaryen babes.

“My lords, if we can not chase and we cannot siege, Ser Robar has left us with the interesting option. Lannister men move without sight and now we know why.” He pulled out a quill and dragged the ink from the Mander to the closest shaft entrance.

“We’ll simply drown them out.” 


End file.
